


I Can Love You

by DemonsDaughter



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Collars, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Injury Recovery, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Procedures, Mpreg, Pet Play, Prisoner of War, Seal Breaking, Sticky Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonsDaughter/pseuds/DemonsDaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collars, dominant Autobots, and some captured Decepticons that need some lovin' and TLC.</p><p>The war is over and Decepticons are on the run. Motormaster, Wildrider, and Astrotrain get captured and are taken in by some kindhearted Autobots. (This is like Hunted but with less forced interfacing)</p><p>~ Smut starts in chapter 5 ~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Capture

**Author's Note:**

> I normally don't bother with notes since I doubt many people read them, but I figured this time I would!
> 
> I know the Autobots seem evil. But it's not like they have a lot of options when it comes to rehabilitating Decepticons. It's either kill them all, stuff them in jail cells, or try to bring them out into public in a degrading way. Some of the Decepticons don't think it's that bad because they have a chance at being regular citizens again. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but it's fun for me to write.
> 
> Also, I want to make it clear that the collars are a kink of mine. I like to see Decepticons in collars-I'm weird. So if you don't like collared mechs, don't read this XD 
> 
>  
> 
> PS. I like when bots get taken care of as well. This will have lots of pampering and medical care in this fic. Pay attention to the tags as I won't stray too far from them!

Terror.

Astrotrain knew he was going down and he was already at the back of the pack. They wouldn't return for him and he knew what his fate would be. Someone would claim him and clip a collar around his neck. He'd become nothing more than a plaything for one of the Autobots. The war was over and they were the last Decepticons left, running and raiding to survive. The dwindling faction would lose a few more today after the failed raid for energon.

The planet was back up and running, Cybertron having healed itself in Iacon and Praxus. The other cities were on their way to self mending, but so far only two were habitable and the Autobots had control of them. They had the larger numbers and now that they were victorious, they could choose whether or not to save any of the on-the-run Decepticons that were left.

'At least they don't torture us. That's the only good thing. I can...be some pet if that's what they want. It's better than getting my plating torn off like Vortex would do to if he caught any of them.'

Astrotrain transformed just before he hit the ground, the shuttle alt returning to his mech form. He hit hard, swallowing a shout as he tumbled across the metallic ground. They were on the outskirts of Iacon and now he was likely one of the only ones left behind. He lay still and watched with cracked optics as his faction left him behind in their haste to flee.

-We got one down! I think it's Astrotrain! And...yes it is!- Powerglide called over the com, the red aerial passing overhead before he swerved and went back around to the main Autobot force.

-Alright, we'll come get him. Is he online?-

-Not sure, but after a fall like that he'll be glad to see someone came to get him!-

-Sounds good. We'll go pick him up- Hound answered, his small group going to check out the fallen Decepticon.

***

Motormaster was bleeding heavily, the huge truck panting as he stumbled along the ground. He couldn't transform anymore and he knew the Autobots were right behind him. The only other bot he saw who was in the same predicament was his gestalt member, Wildrider, the sports model already lagging behind. To think the Autobots had brought down some of the heaviest hitters, it made Motormaster grit his dentas. He would not lose. He refused to give up until they fully shot him down.

He started pulling away from Wildrider and was just about to reach the stragglers of the main Decepticon ground soldiers when he felt something hit him hard in the back of the helm. He went down with a grunt, the mech going unconscious for a moment.

"Stop right there, Decepticon! Lay down flat and don't get up!" Track's called, his snooty voice distant to Motormaster. The truck was finished with his fight since he couldn't get his optics to focus or his frame to obey his commands to move.

He made a soft groan when his arms were pulled back and he felt cuffs going around his wrists, the semi not even trying to dislodge them. He was too tired for that. Besides, Tracks wasn't exactly gentle. The bot thought he was something fancy and he could manhandle the bigger model around. Motormaster understood aggression, so he lay still and let it happen. For now.

"Get up."

"Can't..." Motormaster growled, not moving a bit other than his heaving sides.

-Motormaster needs a medic- Tracks said over the com frequency, glancing over to see Wildrider was surrounded and boxed in at last. They had three powerful Decepticons, bringing them closer to the end of the raids and attempts at rekindling war.

***

Wildrider actually passed out and overheated from all his damage, the sedan barely holding it together. One of his legs was nearly blasted off, the bot limping along and dragging it as he attempted to catch up to the rest of the fleeing Decepticons.

He had called over and over for Motormaster, but he never got a reply. The bot assumed his leader was in trouble and didn't have a chance to talk to him. The idea that he was being ignored when sending out distress signals was too depressing to think about. Motormaster would come and get him, wouldn't he? They always looked out for each other! But after Drag Strip and Breakdown had been captured while Dead End was missing in action, Motormaster had slipped into his own world, likely punishing himself for the loss of his teammate.

"Oww...watch it. You might bust sumthin' up," Wildrider slurred when he came back online and found someone putting him in cuffs. He keened when his damaged leg was moved, the crowd of Autobots around him backing off slightly.

"Easy, Wildrider. We're getting you to a medic," a voice that sounded like Bumblebee's said above him. Wildrider groaned, shutting off his optics. He didn't have the energy to fight anymore, the mech laying on the ground bleeding. He shifted painfully and felt himself getting held down, the pressure surprisingly kind. "Don't move. It's making your leg hurt more."

"Oh...damn," Wildrider grumbled, not moving any more after that. "Hurts bad..."

"I know, but we're getting you to med bay as soon as the bridge opens, okay? You're going to be fine."

"Alright," Wildrider mumbled, fading in and out of consciousness until someone came to help take him into custody.

***

Hound and Inferno helped Astrotrain to his pedes, the mech surprisingly able to stand. His optics were cracked and he couldn't see well, not to mention his left side was crushed, the bot wheezing with the effort to get intakes. He leaned against Inferno, the fire truck holding him up.

"Can you walk?" Inferno asked, half-dragging, half-walking Astrotrain to a bridge that had opened up in front of them. Astrotrain shook his head, not sure what he could do.

"I can barely breathe...help..."

"I know, you'll feel better soon. We'll get ya to Ratchet and First Aid."

Astrotrain held on tight to Inferno, the only one who could actually move him. The mech was a big truck, so he was able to hold his own with the triple changer. Inferno tried not to show his concern, trying to remind himself this was a Decepticon. One of the most mild-mannered ones in the group, but still a ruthless killer.

'More like their taxi. Poor guy. He isn't as bad as some of the other ones. Motormaster and Wildrider are two nasty bots! Glad I don't have to haul them into med bay!'

They arrived at med bay and got Astrotrain onto a large cot made for shuttles, hesitating to take off the cuffs. Ratchet came storming out of his office and growled at them to back off and leave the patients to him. He had two more who were in worse condition and he didn't want anyone bothering the bots.

"Alright, back up! Take the cuffs off him and let him rest. I have two more coming in that need immediate attention. Inferno, stand guard and make sure he doesn't make a run for it-not like he would, but we have to be safe. Hound, go make the report that we have three Decepticons in med bay."

"Will do, Ratchet!" Hound barked, giving a little salute before he turned and headed out, nodding to Inferno on the way.

Astrotrain vented raggedly when his cuffs were taken off, slumping into the cot and groaning. First Aid hovered close by, but he couldn't go help because he saw that Motormaster and Wildrider were being hauled inside. Both were bleeding heavily and needed care right away.

"Ow ow ow! Hurts REAL bad," Wildrider yelped, his nearly torn off leg getting jostled as he was laid down on a cot. First Aid was at his side right away, the medic getting an IV sedative drip ready.

"Hello, Wildrider! Just relax, we'll have you feeling better soon!"

"Don't touch it!" Wildrider growled when First Aid took his arm and pressed between the armor seams at his elbow to find his main line. First Aid winced, skittish but much more composed when he was working on patients. Decepticon patients were a cause for concern, though. Even a wounded beast could bite...

"Wildrider, I'm going to give you an IV, okay? Hold still, please."

"I don' want it-ow!" Wildrider snapped, trying to jerk his arm away when he felt the pinch and the dull feeling of his line being flooded with medicine. He tried to squirm away, but First Aid swiftly taped the IV to his arm and held it as firmly as he could down on the berth until the sedative took effect.

Wildrider groggily fussed, but soon he was completely unconscious, forced sleep taking over. His head lolled to the side as he was better situated on the cot, First Aid getting right to work on his leg. The repairs would take a long time, but he would be fine when he woke up. The soft spoken medic looked up when he saw Motormaster getting set down on the berth, the mech still fighting a little.

"Back off!" he barked, coughing up some energon after. Ratchet cuffed him firmly on the helm and pushed him into the berth. The semi was no match for the highly skilled medic.

"Shut up and lay still. We're going to fix you up, you big brute," Ratchet said firmly, getting and IV prepared for the big mech. He found his main line easily and swiftly eased the needle into the bot's arm and taped it so the black and gray bot couldn't shake it off.

"Touch me again and you'll be sorry..."

"Go to sleep, Motormaster. We can fight when you wake up," Ratchet grumbled, checking the blast wound on the bot's lower back and the gaping saber gash that had been made in Motormaster's torso. That would require quite a few surgical staples.

Inferno tried to ignore Astrotrain's wheezing, the mech's side rising an falling with considerable effort. The bot was in a lot of pain, silent and still save for his loud venting. The fire truck hated it, trying to ignore the plight of the bot. Sure, he might be a Decepticon, but he had a good chance of being freed someday.

"Hey, I can bring you some energon if you think you can drink it," he said, realizing the words were said out loud when cracked red optics tried to focus on him. Astrotrain didn't lift his head, the bot staying nice and still on the cot.

"I'll...try..."

Inferno got some pleasant tasting medical energon off of a countertop and handed it over, Astrotrain reaching for it and dropping the cube on the floor when his hand refused to close around the cube. He moaned with misery, seeing just how far his frame had gone to betray him. He couldn't even hold a simple item. Inferno quickly scooped up the cube and put his hands up to assured Astrotrain it was okay.

"Shoot me...just get it...over with. This isn't...worth it..." Astrotrain panted, multi-toned voice barely more than a raspy whisper. It hurt to speak. Inferno shook his head, gently propping Astrotrain's head up and offering the cube again.

"Just drink it like this!"

"Don't...feed me...'can do that myself..." Astrotrain said, turning his faceplate away from the offering.

Inferno frowned, getting annoyed. Pride had killed more bots than anything else in this war and he wasn't going to let Astrotrain go the same route. He took the mech's chin in one hand and lightly pulled his head back up to an angle that wouldn't make him choke. From there he got the corner of the cube into the mech's mouth and held it firmly until Astrotrain began to drink.

Inferno watched Astrotrain's throat cabling as he drank, trying not to stare. The triple changer got about four swallows down before he made a choking sound and spat out a mouthful of the stuff, gasping and coughing. Inferno let go of his chin and watched helplessly as Astrotrain tried to expel the fluid that had gone down the wrong pipe. The effort exhausted the broken shuttle mech, his chunky wings tucking tightly up against his frame in misery.

"Feel any better?"

"Thanks for...trying. Didn't...work yet..." Astrotrain sighed, shutting his optics off. "Help me...or shoot me."

"We won't be shooting you. Help is the better option there," Inferno said, hoping First Aid or Ratchet would get the other bots stabilized enough to help Astrotrain get more comfortable. "Anything I can do to make it better?"

"I...don't know."

After a cycle, First Aid went over and got to work with Astrotrain, getting him sedated before he began his work. He smiled at Inferno, seeing the two of them had been getting along well enough.

"Do you want to come back when he wakes up? You two seemed to be having a pretty good time."

"No, no. I was just doing my job. See ya around, First Aid!" Inferno said, quickly leaving the med bay. While he had had a fallout with Red Alert not too long ago, he didn't think he wanted to take in a Decepticon. It was expensive, a lot of work, and potentially dangerous. Someone else could have Astrotrain. He couldn't take him in.

'I hope he finds a good home...He's not that bad.'

Inferno couldn't help looking back over his shoulder to see the prone frame of Astrotrain laying on the cot, his wounded side slowly returning to normal as First Aid and Ratchet tended to it.

He was in good hands.


	2. Wildrider

Wildrider woke up feeling drugged and sore. His leg was back to normal at least, the mech glad to see he could move it a little. It was splinted firmly and he didn't expect to be getting up easily, but he would make do. At least he was alive to fight another solar cycle! He smirked, red faceplate morphing into his usual impish grin.

He shifted around and hissed at the aching pain from his leg. It hurt a lot more than he had thought and he decided he wouldn't be doing much in terms of movement for a while, let alone walking. The black and red sedan looked out of the cell he was laying in, the light bars buzzing softly. He saw across from him Astrotrain was still dozing on the floor of his much larger cell, realizing they were all in a brig of sorts.

"Hey! What's going on?" he barked, wondering if he would get any reply.

Nothing.

Wildrider growled and muttered under his breath until he heard pedes down the hallway. He made a little grunt of excitement and tried to sit up to see who was coming. He was pleased when it was First Aid. He could scare that little nerd relatively easily and get what he wanted from him.

"Hey! Why am I in a cage, huh? You think you can make me into a mechanimal?" Wildrider shouted, already causing a ruckus. First Aid winced, shuffling closer to the light bars.

"Please, Wildrider, be calm! I came to redress the leg wound of yours and check to make sure the welding is holding in place," he said, soft spoken as always as he came closer to the dangerous Decepticon. Some were more volatile than others and Wildrider was one of the most unpredictable and difficult bots other than Vortex.

"You think I want you touching my leg?! Yeah, right! You Autobots make us into frag toys. Not that I'd mind a good frag. You want to bend over, little medic? I got a nice long spike I can shove in your-"

"That's quite enough!" First Aid squeaked, covering his face mask with a hand in horror. Of course Wildrider would use dirty talk to bother him. "I am only here to make sure your leg is healing properly! Prowl is going to be coming later to talk to you and you must be in the best condition to speak with him!"

"Prowl? I don't want to see him! He can kiss my aft, the little spike-sucker..."

"Wildrider, please refrain from saying such vulgar things!" First Aid whimpered, absolutely horrified. That only made Wildrider laugh, his rather freakish gray-red optics watching the medic closely.

"What, you afraid of me?"

"No, no, it's not that, I just don't enjoy the crude-"

"Shut up, I can call whoever I want whatever I want. You may want to make me into a pet but I'll need a muzzle, because I love to bite! Hahaaa!"

First Aid gave up. He took down the light bars and walked into the cell with the dangerous war criminal. Maybe if he wasn't feeling too well he would become nicer when he felt better. It was a lame idea that went through the good hearted medic, but First Aid clung to it. They had seen so many of the Decepticons turn out great, many walking about without collars or masters at all.

'Let's try to save you, Wildrider.'

Wildrider hissed when First Aid knelt down and began to examine his wounded leg. The bot wasn't able to move away or do much against the treatment other than curse and threaten. He managed to smack First Aid once on his arm, which caused the medic to tug on the welding and tear some of it. First Aid frowned behind his mask and swatted Wildrider back.

"You tore some of your welding! Please, Wildrider! Be still!" he scolded, getting as angry as First Aid could. Wildrider made a little growl and showed his dentas, but didn't do any more moving. The torn welding hurt a lot more than he was going to let on.

"Alright, Doc. How else can you make me feel better, huh?" he purred, engine revving. First Aid ignored the attempt at sultry provoking, focusing purely on his work.

"We have to do a mental test after this, Wildrider. Now that the sedatives have worn off, we have to evaluate you behaviorally as well as physically. Then Prowl will come check in and see if we can help you further."

"Mental test?! Frag that!"

First Aid welded the wound back together and got out a data pad with Wildrider's medical files on it, Hook having passed all of his files over. He actually had his own med bay now, the mech having converted without much trouble to the Autobot side. Wildrider had a history of insanity, so First Aid worried what might happen when Prowl found out. Blades had rescued Vortex, but would anyone take Wildrider?

Two cycles went by, the mental and behavioral tests not going too smoothly. Wildrider wouldn't allow it. First Aid begged and pleaded, urging the mech to change the way he was acting at least so he could mark down some higher scores. Prowl would send him away for sure at the rate they were going.

"First Aid," Prowl's stern voice said from behind the red and white medic, seeing the bot was still trying to get an answer out of Wildrider for one of the many questions on the test. Wildrider flipped Prowl off, laughing at the face that got from the stoic Elite Guard commander and second to Optimus Prime.

"Prowl, we need more time-"

"I see he isn't responding well. First Aid, we can't save them all, so please step aside."

"Prowl, he's just deranged from the medicine!"

"It has been two hours past when the medications would have worn off. First Aid, I understand that you wish to help everyone-which is a very good thing-but not everyone can be helped. I will take him to the other cell block."

"Prowl, no! He's not as bad as you think!"

Prowl gently pulled First Aid away from the Stunticon and swiftly cuffed Wildrider. The mech hissed and snarled, the forceful cuffing putting pressure on his thigh as he was moved around. Prowl then hoisted Wildrider to his pedes and helped him limp out of the cell.

"So, where we going, handsome? Back to your room, probably!" Wildrider snickered, trying to bite back the pain that was his throbbing weld. Prowl showed barely any expression, but it was obvious he was displeased with the attitude from the sedan.

"You will be going to your new cell. From there, you will have two solar cycles to be claimed. If you are not, you will be executed by lethal injection."

Wildrider's snarky smile fell. "What?!"

Prowl repeated himself, easily holding the mech as he started to struggle. He wanted to live! He wanted to fight again! He didn't want to go down being euthanized like a stupid unwanted mechanimal at a pound! Wildrider roared and shouted his rage and hate for the Autobots, thrashing as best he could against the hold of the second in command. His leg welding tore open completely and he howled, struggling as viciously as he could in his condition.

Prowl dragged Wildrider into the Death Row cell block, eight cells in total inside the stuffy room. Four were on each side of the hallway, Wildrider getting placed in one of the middle cells on the right side. On the left another captured Decepticon sat, his red optics glaring daggers at Prowl. He had one more solar cycle before he was finished for good.

"Come back here and fight me like a mech! Fight me! Shoot me! Do something, you spike-sucking, slag-eating-"

"Shut up. He's not going to let you out and we're going to die."

"Oh, you're just like Dead End! Always the optimist!" Wildrider shot back, throwing himself against the unbreakable bars of the cell. He was desperate to get out, knowing no one would come for him. No one wanted a pet that didn't behave. The other Decepticon, a dark orange and red truck, huffed and curled up on his stiff berth. Let the other bot tire himself out and maybe he could get a nice recharge before they killed him.

***

Wildrider had passed out from exhaustion and the agony of his bleeding leg, waking to find the red and orange truck was pacing around his cell. According to him, he'd seen another bot get the death juice a solar cycle ago and they did it right in the cell. It was driving him crazy and Wildrider was feeding off the terror, hurt, and rage rolling off the other mech's frame.

"Try and kill one or two before they take you down! Make it a fight!"

"Shut up!" the truck barked, slamming against the cell bars before he returned to his neurotic pacing. He was panicked and wished they would just come and get him already...

Wildrider whipped his head around to see the door of the Death Row cell block had been opened. Two Autobot tanks were there, one he recognized as Warpath. The mech looked purely miserable to be there, the other blankly looking ahead. He held a metal box in one hand which likely contained the death-inducing medicine. The truck stopped his pacing, optics huge with terror.

"Hey, Flamethrower. We -Pow!- want to give ya a chance to say anything you need on a -Zoom!- data chip before we proceed..."

"I got nothing to say. Let's get this over with."

"Neck, arm, or thigh?" the other tank asked, the light bars going down so they could move into the cell. Wildrider watched in horror, unable to look away. Normally he didn't mind death, but dying like this was unheard of!

"Thigh."

Warpath sat down and gathered the other mech into a firm headlock while his other arm wrapped around the mech's middle. The truck was draped over Warpath's lap, his aft and targeted hip at a perfect angle for the other tank to administer the injection. The truck was visibly shaking, Warpath softly petting his helm and saying something quietly to him as the box opened and the lethal medicine was prepped.

Just as the other tank inserted the needle into a main line, the door of Death Row slammed open and there was a shout to stop. The red and orange truck yelped loudly when the needle was yanked out of his thigh, thankfully none of the lethal medication having been injected yet. An unnamed Autobot came running in, the racing model rushing to the cell.

"Is it too late? I came as soon as I could! Please tell me he's still here-"

"He's still -Zowie!- here! Cut it close, though!" Warpath said, holding the quivering Decepticon in his arms. Flamethrower stared at the Autobot who had come to save him with huge optics, mouth hanging open slightly in shock.

"Flamethrower, I came. I told you I would," the yellow and blue mech murmured, the truck getting released so he could tackle the Autobot in a tight hug.

"You came...thank Primus, you came back for me..." he panted, shivering with the relief that he was spared. Wildrider watched it all, feeling the pure elation and affection between the two. The Autobot pressed a kiss to the bot's helm, holding the bigger mech tightly.

"Let's go home."

The Autobot led the collared Decepticon out of the cell block, the bot in a daze. He stayed close to the Autobot, optics staring in shock straight ahead. Wildrider watched them until he couldn't any longer, then turned his gaze to the two tanks.

"I'm sure glad someone came for him!" Warpath announced, bright and goofily cheerful like always.

"Same here. I hate when no one does. Breaks my spark to do it," the other tank said, the black and white behemoth grinning a bit. "But it's how it has to be, I guess."

They passed by Wildrider without a second glance. They had heard and seen enough of him upon entering the cell block. The bot had no chance of being rescued, so they tried not to get too attached or pay much attention to him. He'd be dead in two solar cycles.

Wildrider heard the door slam shut and hunkered down in his sparse blanket on his sorry excuse for a berth. He held it closer to his frame, optics staring at the ceiling. They watered a little when he realized he wouldn't have a happy ending like that. He hated the other mech and his Autobot. He hated everything. The world had never been anything but cruel to him.

"Fine. I don't care. I don't need anyone to rescue me. I can fight my way out!" Wildrider shouted to no one, covering his faceplate after that in defeat.

He could talk all he wanted, but he knew he was never leaving that cell again until his frame was ash gray.


	3. Astrotrain

"How are you feeling, Astrotrain?" Ratchet's gruff voice asked, the red and white medic entering the cell to check on the big triple changer. Astrotrain made a soft rumble of greeting, still groggy and drugged.

Ratchet knelt down in front of the big bot and checked his optics, then his side, and then one of his wings that had been yanked in his fall. He saw everything was recovering well and patted the gray and purple mech's hip. Astrotrain snuggled into his blanket, completely calm and behaved. He was never a truly mean Decepticon and he would easily find his way back into society.

"You look good, mech. Just rest up a little more and someone will come in here wanting to bring you home."

"Wah?" Astrotrain mumbled, chubby shuttle wings flicking sluggishly at the voice of the other mech. He wanted to sleep and be warm, so the conversation was a little too much for him. Ratchet snickered softly, giving the mech another pat.

"You look good! Rest up and shake off the meds. Call for First Aid or myself if things feel too sore once you're more awake."

"M'kay...can I sleep now?"

"You can sleep. You have the whole solar cycle off, soldier," Ratchet said, glad to see a goofy grin on Astrotrain's faceplate as he snuggled in.

"Alright, sir...thanks."

And with that said, Astrotrain fell back into recharge. For a bot who was captured, wounded, and destined to belong to another mech for some time, he was pretty happy. There were worse things and at least now he would be well fed and under a real roof. Living on the run was never going to work for him, most of all when he was nothing more than a transport vehicle for the others.

He was determined to be happy in his new social position. There was no use in being miserable about it.

***

First Aid was thankful when Astrotrain passed all the tests and was given a green dot above his cell. He wouldn't see it, but everyone who came in to look at him would. He was a relatively peaceful, albeit somewhat moody, bot who was ready to go with someone who could care for him. The triple changer was still recovering and needed to stay in the med bay cell until he was able to walk and be moved more comfortably, but he was available for visitors. Since he was a bot someone would easily take in, he was treated a lot better than a mech like Wildrider who was sentenced to the death block.

"First Aid! Can I come see Astrotrain?"

"Oh, of course! I'm sure he'll be happy for the company! Please, follow me!" First Aid said, cheerfully bringing the inquiring mech into the med bay recovery cells. Motormaster was dozing in a cell next to the triple changer, who was also snoozing for lack of anything better to do. He might have been big, but the sedatives worked wonders on him.

"Here he is! He is still resting from the damage, but he's going to make a full recovery!" First Aid said proudly. "Astrotrain, you have someone here to see you!"

Astrotrain shifted under one of his blankets when he heard his name, the bot's optics coming online so he could glance up at First Aid. He rolled over with a grunt and blearily regarded the two bots who were looking at him. He didn't bother to stand up, too tired for that.

"Who came to see me?" Astrotrain grumbled, his optics refocusing again. They were still repairing themselves from being cracked in his rough landing. First Aid let down the light bars and checked said optics, Astrotrain placidly letting it happen. First Aid was thrilled to see they were nearly back to normal, only the focus causing the bot some trouble.

"Inferno came! And your optics look better this solar cycle! How do they feel?"

"Uh...pretty good? Still a little hard to focus but it's better," Astrotrain said, pulling away so he could look at Inferno. "Why did you come back?"

"I'm not letting you stay in here. You're coming home with me, buddy!"

"Sure? I don't have much of a choice, do I?"  
"No...not really," Inferno chuckled, the finials on the sides of his helm flicking cutely. Astrotrain made a soft chuff and started to get up.

"I don't want to wear a stupid collar, though."

"That's part of the deal, Astrotrain. Come on, just do it and we can take it off when we get home."

"Do you even have room for me?" Astrotrain asked, still sounding sleepy. He stretched out and winced slightly at his side. He was wrapped in a mesh dressing to keep any rust infections out of the open wound.

"Of course I do! Now that Red Alert isn't living with me, the place feels empty. Lots of big rooms for us to hang out in. I'm not a small mech, Astrotrain, so don't worry about fitting through the door," Inferno teased, pleased when he saw a flicker of a smile on the triple changer's lips.

"Alright, fine. You won me over."

Inferno was somewhat concerned when he saw the bot stumble on his way out of the recovery cell, quickly reaching out and catching the mech under his arms before he fell. Astrotrain gratefully held on, glad for the extra support. Maybe he wasn't as healed as he thought. It didn't hurt too much yet, but the pain medications were still running through his system.

"Here, let's get the collar on you and get you home. You still need rest!" Inferno said, taking out a collar with stars on it out of his subspace. Astrotrain curled a lip in distaste.

"Really? You had to get one with stars on it..."

"Come on, have a sense of humor! You do have 'astro' in your name and that's got a lot to do with astronomy! Just wear it for now and we can always get you a new one later. And eventually you won't need one at all!" Inferno said, clipping the item around Astrotrain's neck. The shuttle mech didn't look too happy about that, but he knew better than to fight it.

"Feels weird..." he grumbled, scratching at it and causing the two dog tags to jingle. One was a smooth metal piece with his name engraved in it while the other was a scannable medical record chip in case anyone needed to know when he was last given a tune-up and anti-viruses.

"You'll not even notice it's there soon. Don't worry, big guy. I'll make sure it's comfortable."

Inferno held Astrotrain tighter when he saw a flustered First Aid come over, the bot appearing concerned. Astrotrain made a soft growl when he was gently pulled away from Inferno and tugged into the med bay. He dug his heels in, making it impossible for anyone there to move him easily.

"Nuh-uh. I'm not going in there again. I'm fine, First Aid. Thanks."

"But you aren't fine! You stumbled! You might have an equilibrium deficiency or a leak in your fuel tanks! Anything can cause that and I need to be one hundred percent sure that you're well enough to be taken out of med bay!" First Aid exclaimed. "Please, come with me. I won't do anything invasive, it's just a small scan."

"Let him scan you, Astrotrain. It's for the best just in case," Inferno sighed, having wanted to leave just as much as Astrotrain did. Being stuck in med bay was never any fun.

Astrotrain was scanned twice for any internal injuries and was given a reluctant okay to go from the small medic. Inferno muttered something under his breath about it being slow service there before he helped Astrotrain to his pedes. The triple changer needed the help, panting a little when he was finally righted.

"He'll need to take two pills for the pain per solar cycle. Make sure he gets one in the morning and before bed. Add these supplements to anything he eats and call if there is any trouble. Wrapping the side can be hard but you can always bring him here for a sound dressing. You'll need to do it every other solar cycle," First Aid explained, handing Inferno a data pad with everything he needed to know. The fire truck took the item with a smile, thanking First Aid again and assuring he would do as instructed.

"Come on, let's get out of here before he figures out something else you might need," Inferno chuckled, Astrotrain almost smiling again.

"Yeah, let's go."

Inferno got the shuttle mech out of med bay and a quarter of the way to his home when the bot begged to stop. He was weakened from the lack of movement and the strain on his systems, panting heavily as he and the other large mech slowed to a stop. Inferno supported the hefty weight of the other bot until he found them a bench to sit down on.

"Maybe I did rush things. You aren't in very good condition, bud."

"I'm just overworked. I came out of surgery only a solar cycle ago or something. I don't even remember what went on. But either way I'm worn out," Astrotrain sighed, scratching again at the collar. It wasn't uncomfortable, only strange. Never before had he been collared like that. "How much longer is it?"

"Not to far. Think you can make it the last stretch? You can almost see the front light from here."

"Did you get a whole building?"

"Yep, we all did. Got our first picks, too! There aren't a lot of bots left. There were two ships that returned with some neutrals, but our numbers are so low it's terrifying. And since new sparks aren't being produced yet, we have to create the old way."

"And that takes a while," Astrotrain hummed, seeing that barely anyone was out in the street. The Decpeticons that hadn't been caught were still pretty substantial, but even if every single one was caught and domesticated, the city would be essentially empty. Their kind were vulnerable to attack if any other race figured it out.

"Come on, let's get home. It's eerie out here when there aren't many bots. It used to be full of life."

"I know. I don't like it, either."

Astrotrain made it back to his new home, impressed when he saw it was in upper New Iacon, the building likely having belonged to a Noble back in the Golden Age. It was fully repaired, but when he entered it was rather sparse of furnishings.

"We're still finding things we can use. When the Omega Lock turned on, it only healed the buildings themselves, not everything in them. So we have to scrounge around and hope we find some things that are nice and can be salvaged. Or we make our own, which takes a while as I'm sure you know. We have all the drones working on manufacturing as well as quite a few bots," Inferno explained, noticing Astrotrain checking everything out.

"So the currency system hasn't really come back. You guys just find stuff of trade?"

"Yes, so far anyway. We need more bots to arrive before we can really get that going again. But we have Swindle and he's handed over as much loot as we can get him to. The little bastard is stingy even when under control."

"Trust me, you won't get much out of him. Unless you get his supplier's information. That's what I'd go for, not the items themselves. If you can get ahold of the bots or whoever is supplying him, you can get what you need at the source," Astrotrain said, shrugging. "That's what I'd do."

"That's not a bad idea at all! We need bots like you to help us out with things like that! Mind if I let some higher ups know? We can get Swindle to talk with enough bribes."

"Sure, go ahead. I don't care. So long as we have a lot of energon, I'm happy."

"We have a lot of that, thankfully. The oil and energon Cybertron produces is back up and running, not to mention the cyber-forests and wild mechanimals are coming back. The planet is healing, but it will take a long time before it's fully repaired."

"All good things come in time. We'll just wait it out as we always do," Astrotrain said, sighing softly. "But this collar business isn't good. I don't like feeling as if I'm a slave."

"You aren't! Not to me. You're a companion and a friend."

Astrotrain nodded, glad when he was led to a berthroom that was fully furnished. The Noble who had fled the place had left most of his or her things. The lower levels that were easily looted had been the ones stripped of everything useful.

"Sounds good. So is this my room?"

"It's our room! Do you like the view?" Inferno asked brightly, motioning to the lovely balcony with the moons of Cybertron gleaming outside. Astrotrain made a confused sound.

"What do you mean, 'our room?'"

"We're going to share a berth, Astrotrain! We're expected to do that."

"We...are?"

"Yep! You aren't too opposed, are you? I guess we could start you out on the couch but-"

Astrotrain zoned out for a moment, deciding whether or not he was comfortable with what was expected of him. Inferno wasn't bad looking. Not only that, but he was genuinely kind and had a sense of gruff humor. There was an edge to him, though, so he knew the bot could get angry if provoked. But all in all, he wasn't bad to be with and Astrotrain assumed he would be able to get along with him well enough as time went by.

"Nah, the berth is fine. Which side do I get?"


	4. Motormaster

"Motormaster? Are you awake?"

Motormaster was awake now thanks to the bot yapping at him. He growled deeply and onlined his optics, glancing up at the mech who was bothering him. He saw the bot was red and white, so it was one of the damned Autobot medics. He wondered why he was interacting with them for a brief moment, his mind sluggish and not registering that he was in Autobot custody now. Hook was normally the medic who worked with him...

"I'm awake now," he rumbled, quite unhappy about the fact. Why wouldn't they let him sleep? He couldn't do anything in his recharge, so he would think they'd like it if he was quiet.

"Oh, good! Someone is here to talk with you!"

"Frag off," Motormaster hissed, painfully rolling over so he didn't have to acknowledge the other bot. It was First Aid for sure since Ratchet was too nasty to let him get away with such behavior, the truck already knowing that quite well. Ratchet would take no ones slag.

"Don't you want to go home with someone? Motormaster, you need someone to take care of you!"

"Do not. So frag off."

"Motormaster? Can we talk?" Silverbolt asked, the Aerialbot leader standing beside First Aid as he looked into the cell. His former nemesis was laying in a heap, the bot pretty beat up from the fight. He felt bad for the semi truck, knowing Motormaster wasn't one to lay low.

Motormaster heard a voice he recognized and instantly tried to get up and battle its owner. He hated Silverbolt and he would finish him off once and for all! Panting heavily, he got onto his hands and knees, trying to stand but finding he was unable to. Everything ached and he was exhausted, the mech refocusing his optics a few times in hateful shock. His own frame refused to obey him!

"Motormaster, please...lay still! You'll tear some of the medical astaples!" First Aid called, quickly letting down the light bars so he could go inside and check for new damage. Motormaster tried to swat at him, but the movement unbalanced him and sent the bot onto his undamaged side, exhausted from the minor effort.

"Back. The frag. Off!" Motormaster spat, trying to get up again. He couldn't force his body to do anything in his current state, so he ended up flopping over again in a pathetic lump. When he rested he finally focused on Silverbolt, the aerial hovering over him.

"First Aid, will he recover? The damage looks pretty bad..."

"He'll make a full recovery with time and attention. Right now he's been a poor patient unless he's drugged. I hate to do it, but otherwise he'd rip out the medical staples and the welding Ratchet made for him. He will need to have all the staples removed in a week, so he will have to come back for that procedure."

"When will he be able to move out of a med bay cell?"

"Well, it's advised a bot be moved out as soon as possible. It allows them to have a more comfortable recovery in their new home, but I'm not sure if Motormaster could be transported in his current state. He's hurting quite a bit and I'm unsure whether or not he would take the required medications on his own or under your watch."

"Can we try? I hate to see him in a cell, First Aid. He might be mean sometimes but no one should be trapped in here when they're trying to feel better. I'll get a transporter if I need to."

"Even in this state, he will need a collar if you intend to move him. Do you have one? Ratchet said he must have a shock capable collar for some time until he settles down. He's a red temperament, so he will require a great deal of work on your part," First Aid explained, pointing to his data pad where the behavioral test had marked him down as a 'red' level bot. Someone like Astrotrain received a green level, meaning he was quite agreeable and calm.

"I can handle him. My gestalt is willing to help out, too. We all live together so having him around would be good for everyone! We can all learn a lot from the experience," Silverbolt said, leaving out the fact that Slingshot and Air Raid might not behave themselves when their former enemy was living amongst them.

"I'm not an experience!" Motormaster griped, never willing to admit he was actually terrified of what was going to happen. He could do nothing to stop it, either. He was weak and vulnerable to attack, the shock collar sure to make him even more servile and submissive to the Autobot wretches.

Silverbolt hated what had happened almost as much as Motormaster did. Bots were not meant to be enslaved and kept as pets. They should all work out their differences and be free. The war was over, so couldn't they all live in peace with one another? It was so horrid to domesticate bots who were simply of different mindsets.

"Can we at least try to help him move in?"

"We can try but I would like to talk to Ratchet first."

"Alright, First Aid. Please go ask him and I'll stay here with Motormaster," Silverbolt said gently, watching as First Aid went scurrying off to do as was asked. That left him alone with the big semi truck, red optics watching him with pure hate.

"Don't touch me ever. I'll kill you!" Motormaster hissed, shifting around and trying to get up again and again. He had to stand in front of his enemies, not lay pitifully on the floor! Snarling and growling at his own uselessness, the mech tired himself out rather quickly.

"Motormaster, I don't want to hurt you or do anything you don't like. I just want to help you," Silverbolt murmured, taking a step closer so he was inside the cell. Motormaster showed his dentas and attempted to lunge at him.

"I don't want your help, Autobot scum!"

"Motormaster, please..."

Silverbolt reached out and did one of the boldest things he had ever done. He touched Motormaster on the helm and gave him a gentle pet. Motormaster attempted to punch him, but it didn't work and he had to lay there while Silverbolt, his worst enemy, touched him like he was some kind of aggressive mechanimal. It was partially true, but he didn't care.

"Motormaster, we need to get over this old rivalry thing. We have to make a truce at the very least."

"Why should I?"

"Because I'm all you have left."

Motormaster let out a deep roar at that and wished he could throttle the other bot. It wasn't going to happen, but he wished it could. Silverbolt winced at the sound, but he knew the other mech had to hear it. He could pretend all he wanted, but this was his life now. He belonged to someone else other than himself.

"What's all that racket out here?" Ratchet asked, walking into the med bay cells to find Motormaster was having a breakdown of sorts. He frowned, knowing what it was likely about. "Alright, let's check you out one more time, Motormaster."

Motormaster fought as much as he could, but Ratchet was much stronger and easily rolled him over onto his back. The black and gray mech made a deep whine when the mesh bandages were taken off and the repairing wound was looked over. The medical staples were a little swollen, but it was likely from all the movement Motormaster insisted on causing.

"It doesn't look too bad. I think he can go home," Ratchet said, giving him a check on the data pad he held. "Get a shock collar on him and make sure you bring him back in four solar cycles. Those medical staples will need to come out once the protoflesh knits back together."

"Alright, Ratchet. Will do!" Silverbolt assured, willing to take care of anything Motormaster needed.

The aerial took out a collar, one of the thin shock ones that were most prevalent among the Decepticons. Ratchet held Motormaster's helm still so Silverbolt could clip the collar on. Motormaster fought it, but he heard the snap when the item closed around his warm neck and let loose a spark-wrenching howl. He was truly captured now.

"Shhh...Motormaster, you're fine! It won't shock you unless you try to kill someone," Silverbolt cooed, trying to hush the distraught mech. Motormaster was panicking, even Ratchet thinking that the bot might hurt himself in the terrified panic.

Ratchet got a sedative out of his subspace and swiftly gave it to the semi, the mech not even noticing the pinch in his arm as he fought the collar. Silverbolt was quite upset, seeing what he had done to a fellow Cybertronian. Motormaster thrashed and fought as best he could until the medication worked, the bot finally quiet and still.

"There we go. He'll get used to it, Silverbolt. Don't take that thing off for a click. He's a dangerous bot and until he changes a great deal, you have to keep it on no matter what he says or does."

"I know, Ratchet. But he's so upset..."

"He'll change if he wants to be happy again. You'll see, Silverbolt. He'll warm up to you after a while."

Silverbolt said nothing, shaking his head. He knew it would be a long time until the mech would ever look at him with anything but hate. Despite that, he had to try to show Motormaster every ounce of kindness and love he could.

'I just hope it will be enough...'


	5. Astrotrain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sticky sex at last! I'm sure everyone was wondering when the porn would start lol

Astrotrain woke in the middle of the lunar cycle to find himself warmer than usual. He grumbled softly and onlined his optics, checking to see if he was overheating. Instead of his own frame giving off heat, he found he was spooning Inferno, the fire truck still fast asleep. Astrotrain felt the collar and the soft jingle of his tags and remembered all of it. He was a pet or a companion or...something.

'Whatever I am, it's not that bad. I get to have a nice berth and a sleeping buddy who isn't trying anything weird. It could all have been a lot worse, even if the collar is pretty stupid,' Astrotrain thought, tugging at said collar as he shifted to get more comfortable.

His frame was giving off more heat than Inferno's was, the mech frowning at that. Huh. Weird. Astrotrain didn't think much more of it, instead trying to get more comfortable. The triple changer made a deep groan when his lower middle and thighs gave off a rush of heat, the feeling not one he was used to. Maybe something was actually going wrong with him.

'Gotta tell Inferno. He'll fix it,' Astrotrain decided, shaking the other mech awake. His collar tags clinked as he did so, the mech's ruby optics wide with fright. What if he was having a malfunction?! His valve and spike were feeling hot and swollen, so it might be a virus. It could be any number of medical ailments Astrotrain was not familiar with, so he would get his 'master' or companion or whatever Inferno was to make it right again.

"Astrotrain? Something wrong?" Inferno asked, groggy after his rude awakening. Maybe sharing a berth with another bot was too much all at once. The shuttle mech didn't seem to be doing too well so far...

"Yeah, something's wrong with my systems! I'm running really hot and...it feels like something is messed up down south, if you know what I mean," he whined, his voice betraying how worried about it he really was. "What if I have a virus?"

"Astrotrain, calm down. You're fine. Let's talk this out and then decide what needs to be done. When did the symptoms start?" Inferno asked, sitting up. He was used to dealing with bots that panicked and needed calming down.

Red Alert had been one such bot and they had been best friends until the mech had 'gone bad,' so to speak. Inferno knew the mech hated Decepticons, but never imagined to what an extent. The bot had acquired one for a pet and it had gone downhill fast. Scavenger had been abused to such an extent that he was confiscated because Inferno reported the maltreatment. It had destroyed their friendship, but Inferno knew he had done the right thing in the end.

"I don't know! I woke up and I felt weird," Astrotrain groaned, one of his hands pawing at his hip. It was really hot in his interface area. But could he tell Inferno that? It was pretty awkward...

"Astrotrain, are you...in heat?"

"Huh?"

"Are you in heat?"

"I have no idea. Am I?" Astrotrain answered, looking at Inferno for support. The fire truck at least had an idea of what it might be. That was a good start. "I don't want to go back to the medics. Can I stay here if it's...er...heat or whatever you called it?"

Inferno stared. "Do you not know what a heat cycle is, Astrotrain? Are you still sealed and everything?"

"I don't know...how do you check for something like that? Where would the seal be?" Astrotrain asked, ready to find the problem. The truck laying next to him rubbed his helm in shock, watching the Decepticon with a mix of pure adoration and amazement. Was Astrotrain really that much of a virgin?

"Here, I can check for you. Come here," Inferno said gently, sitting up and taking the big triple charger into his arms. He hugged Astrotrain when he felt the mech shaking slightly, his frame running hot. It was a heat cycle for sure. "Open your valve panel."

"Er...do I have to?"

"If you want me to check, yes. You have to."

Astrotrain did what he was told, his cheeks going red hot with embarrassment. Inferno hugged Astrotrain tighter and said soft nothings into his audio receptor as he slid his hand between powerful thighs to search for a seal.

The shuttle made a loud whine when a digit slid between his soft valve folds and pushed deeper, the mech weakly trying to inch away. Inferno assured him it wouldn't hurt him and settled the triple changer. Astrotrain rested his chin against Inferno's shoulder and panted in loud chuffs, wincing when Inferno pressed on something inside him that barred the way to the deeper parts of his valve.

"Ow....can you not push on whatever that is? It hurts," Astrotrain grumbled, valve clamping down on the intruding digit. His insides gave a push to try and dispel the 'problem,' but it didn't get rid of Inferno. The fire truck continued to press around.

"Well, you're still sealed and it's thick. The heat will only get worse until we break it and get the breeding protocols to calm down," Inferno said, rubbing the back of the shuttle's helm in a soothing way as he slid his finger out. There wasn't a lot of lubricant thanks to the seal, so it was somewhat dry and probably hurt.

"Do I have to go to a medic?"

"No, I can fix you if you're up for it. It's going to hurt a little the first time, though. I have to break the first seal and you're pretty dry. I don't know if you have two seals like some bots do in there, but we can figure that out as we go."  
"How much is it going to hurt? Because it hurt then."

"I'm sorry if there was some bad friction. I had no idea you were going to be so dry. We'll get some lube and go for it. And...well, it's going to hurt for a little bit. But after that it'll be a lot better."

Astrotrain nodded, letting Inferno take him off his lap and set him on the berth, the purple and gray mech watching as the grounder walked into the wash racks. He flopped down on his middle and groaned softly into a pillow. His frame hurt and burned all at the same time, not to mention he wanted Inferno's finger back in his valve even if it had hurt.

'What is wrong with me?! I've never wanted anyone to touch me like that. I mean, sure, some cuddling is good. But that's not invasive or anything...' Astrotrain thought, chubby shuttle wings lowering with shame on his back. 'Carrier told me to wait for someone special and to be careful. Is Inferno special?'

Astrotrain yelped when he felt a hand on his lower back, the sudden touch not anticipated. Inferno was back in the berthroom. The truck quickly apologized, holding his hands up to show he had no weapons or posed any threat.

"Hey, big guy. What's got you all upset?" he asked, sitting heavily beside Astrotrain so he could stroke the yellow head crest the Decepticon had. Astrotrain sighed, unsure what to say.

"This is. supposed to mean a lot, right? And doesn't this...lead to sparklings?"

"It means as much as you make it mean. As for sparklings, sometimes. It depends on whether I get through the gel wall or prick it durning everything."

"Should we just go for it? The heat is pretty bad down there and if that will help I think it's a good idea," Astrotrain said, letting Inferno give him a big hug and tuck him under his frame.

"If you're ready, I think we should. I'll make sure it doesn't hurt too much."

Astrotrain kept his valve cover pulled back and let Inferno take care of him. There was trust between them even if they had just met. The triple changer didn't feel like some kind of pet. He felt like he was a loved companion. And if it was fake, he didn't care. At least he could pretend that someone felt something for him.

Inferno peppered some kisses along Astrotrain's neck and jaw, the shuttle purring loudly as the fire truck fussed over him. Inferno's spike cover snapped back and his length sprung out, the mech carefully rubbing some lube on the stiff yet silky smooth breeding organ. Astrotrain was kissing him and hugging him tight, so at least he was distracted and happy.

'I hope it doesn't hurt you too much. I don't want to hurt you,' Inferno thought, feeling for the triple changer and holding him right back. Astrotrain answered the affection with a soft sound and some nuzzling against Inferno's cheek.

"Primus, where have you been hiding that sweetness all this time? How did no one else figure out you had so much love in there, huh?" Inferno asked softly, holding Astrotrain as the big mech cuddled with him. Astrotrain shrugged, shuttle wings flicking slightly.

"I don't know. I'm supposed to be tough and mean, so I pretended for a while. But now I don't have to do that anymore."

"No...no you won't have to do that ever again," Inferno murmured, pressing his forehead against Astrotrain's as they lay in the berth. Heat rolled off both their frames, but they didn't seem to notice. Their optics met and they simply watched one another.

Inferno guided his spike with one hand to Astrotrain's waiting valve, spreading the folds so the sharp tip of his length was safely away from them. He pushed slightly and was glad to feel his spike slide into the insanely tight grip of a virgin valve. He murmured sweet words to the triple changer as he eased himself deeper, stopping when he felt the seal. Astrotrain whined under him, the pressure new but so far not painful.

"This is weird..."

"Does it hurt? Are you feeling okay?"

"I mean, I guess so? What happens next?"

"Next I have to break the seal. So try to relax and look at me. I'm not hurting you because I want to, but it's going to ache pretty bad at first. Are you ready?"

Astrotrain's garnet optics regarded Inferno's topaz ones and he nodded slowly. Yes, he was ready. His hands curled tightly around Inferno's shoulders and he waited, keeping his legs spread and obediently still. Inferno smiled, once again wondering how the mech hadn't been claimed by someone else until then. He was a rare one, a bot with a gentle and trusting spark.

"I adore you, Astrotrain. You and I are going to make a good pair," Inferno whispered, making sure he had pinned the bot before he thrust his hips in one good snap and tore through the seal.

Astrotrain's optics went wide with the sudden flare of pain and he cried out, frame stiffening all over. His valve fluttered and tried to push the invading spike out, the mech whimpering and gasping. One leg kicked weakly, the sting enough to make him not want to move much at all. Inferno hushed him with kisses and pets, reassuring him that he had done a great job and that the ache would go away.

"Hurts...really bad...Inferno, help!"

"Shhh....shhh...I know, I know it hurts. It'll get better, trust me. Relax if you can and let your frame accept it."

Infeno was glad to feel there was new lubricant behind that seal, the heat cycle trying to make the breeding easier. That was good. With the heat cycle in full force, the pain of the seal would likely fade a lot quicker than usual.

"I'm going to move, okay?"

"Nnnggh...okay..."

Astrotrain was surprisingly vocal when Infenro got going. Part of it was because it hurt like crazy and the other part was because it felt amazing. The triple changer couldn't pick which so he made a great deal of noise. Inferno muffled the mewls and howls and gasps with deep kisses, claiming every inch of Astrotrain as they mated. His hands passed over wings and chest plates, over side seams and hips. The two were a tangled mess of bodies as they coupled.

Infenro felt he was coming close to the end of his endurance and started to speed up, drawing more noise from the shuttle under him. Astrotrain lay with his wings fluttering and his mouth open, panting heavily in between cries and shouts.

"Ready...for the big...finale?"

"Inferno..." Astrotrain answered, optics full of pleasure as his valve rippled around the stiff spike. Inferno groaned deeply, rolling his hips against the warm frame beneath him.

He picked up the pace for the last click or two of thrusting, feeling a tightness in his groin just before he overloaded with a good shout. Astrotrain gasped when he felt a hot rush of fluid spurt from the tip of the other mech's spike, filling him with silvery transfluid. A great deal of pressure came after the warm transfluid and he tried to move away from it only to find he was stuck to Inferno.

"What's going on?! It HURTS!"

"Astrotrain, hush! You're fine, we're just tied. Don't move, okay? Lay still and let me take care of you."

Astrotrain fussed quietly, although he did listen when he was told to settle down. The pressure would go away and the big spike tie would deflate within a half cycle. Inferno sighed contentedly, tired from the good round of sex.

"It aches now. Will it get better in a little while?"

"It'll get better, Astro. Just rest now, alright?"

It took a while before the tie finally let up and the two pulled apart. Transfluid that had been trapped between the spike tie and the gestation chamber dribbled out, making a small puddle on the mesh blankets. The two lazily rolled over and snuggled, neither paying the sticky mess any mind.

"Get some rest now, okay?"

"Will do, Inferno....Goodnight, buddy."

"Goodnight," Inferno answered, pressing a kiss to Astrotrain's cheek. "Recharge well, Astrotrain."

With their goodnights said, the two large mechs fell into recharge, nestled against one another as of they had always been partners. Neither felt like a master or a pet as they lay together, helms touching as they slept.


	6. Wildrider

Just as Wildrider had thought, no one came to get him. He lay in Death Row all alone without even another inmate to talk to, the clicks passing by so slowly each felt like it was a cycle. The mech silently curled up and watched through a tiny slit window as the sun rose on his second (and last), solar cycle. For a few moments when he came back online from recharge he had imagined someone calling his name and hugging him like the Autobot had with Flamethrower, yet when he looked to the door of his cell he saw no one there with open arms to rescue him.

'No one wants me, huh? Well, they're missing out! I'm pretty awesome!' Wildrider thought to himself, although it was a weak attempt to make himself feel better. He was going to be put down like a dangerous beast, a beast that no one gave a second glance.

Wildrider fussed at his leg in his spare time, the unattended wound full of white corrosion. He had no medial background and didn't have a clue as to how to take care of himself. He needed his brothers to tell him things, but the gestalt bond was closed off on all parties. No one was willing to open it, each mech walling out the others to protect them from detrimental emotions.

The black and red mech jerked when the door opened, Warpath and the larger tank entering. Wildrider pushed himself back into the farthest corner of his cell and got ready to attack, cabling tensing under his armor plating. He would not go down without a fight! Gritting his dentas, the bot readied himself for whatever was to come.

"Good morning, Wildrider! I bright you -Zam!- a data pad if you want to write to anyone before -Boom!- we get down to business," Warpath offered, holding out a data pad to the mentally deranged Decepticon. Wildrider growled softly, unsure whether or not he could take the data pad at all. He didn't want to come too close...

"Throw it into the cell, Warpath. He thinks we'll grab him if he comes closer," the black and white tank said, bumping Warpath's side with his elbow to encourage him to toss the item inside. Warpath did, the data pad clattering onto the floor near Wildrider.

Wildrider snatched it up and clung to it, looking at the blank page. He slowly typed out what he wanted to say, going as sluggishly as possible. He needed to think of a plan! There had to be a way out. Maybe he could bargain with the tanks? Killing them would be hard, so he needed a plan B.

"Hurry up! We don't want to be here all solar cycle and I'm sure you don't, either," the larger tank snapped, looking at his internal clock and seeing Wildrider was wasting time and attempting to stall. It was a common occurrence in Death Row.

"Almost done..." Wildrider snapped, typing the last word before he threw it back towards the bars.

Warpath knelt down and took up the data pad, reading the few lines with a hurting spark. Wildrider wrote 'Tell my gestalt they suck spike and that I love them to little pieces.' Warpath gently placed the data pad in his subspace and regarded the terrified optics of the other mech. How could he have been assigned a job like this? So many of the bots weren't bad!

'But I can't -Kerboom!- save them all! I have to turn away and hope someday I forget this ever happened,' Warpath sighed to himself. He had complained to the new Counsel over and over again that this was wrong, yet nothing came of the complaints. Optimus might be the Prime, but he couldn't seem to bring an end to the torture and enslavement of the defeated faction. Bots would rebel if he did, very few surviving Neutrals and Autobots willing to give Decepticons free range again.

"Alright, do you want it in your neck, arm, or thigh?" the large tank asked, getting out the plain box which held the deadly drug. Wildrider growled deeply and stayed quiet, refusing to answer. Maybe if he didn't say anything they wouldn't be able to kill him.

"Wildrider, if you don't pick-"

"We pick for you. Thigh it is. Warpath, get the stuff ready while I grab him."

"Touch me and you die!" Wildrider snarled, ready to spring into action. His wounded leg ached, but he pushed the pain away as adrenaline rushed through his energon lines. Nothing was going to prevent him from defending himself.

The tank rolled his optics and let down the light bars, lumbering into the cell without a worry. He knew Wildrider was essentially harmless with a damaged leg and a worn down frame. The bot was overtired and stressed. Within a few clicks he would exhaust himself and become relatively harmless. Wildrider snarled as viciously as he could, pressing further back against the wall.

"Let's get this over with, Wildrider. It's going to happen, so try to be calm!"

"Never gonna happen!" Wildrider shouted back, lashing out only when the tank bent down to grab him.

Wildrider grabbed onto the tank's thick neck and squeezed as hard as he could. The mech grunted with surprise at the swiftness of the sedan type, but swiftly put an end to any more protest. The tank grabbed Wildrider's damaged leg and forced the mech down onto the floor while he howled with agony, the badly healed damage aiding in his defeat. The black and white tank hefted a feebly struggling Wildrider into his arms and put him in a firm headlock, ignoring the profanities and fussing as he sat heavily down on the berth inside the cell.

"Get the stuff, Warpath. I don't want to deal with this one any longer than I have to," the tank grunted, wincing when Wildrider bit down hard on his wrist. Warpath had the deadly drug and syringe out, the mech measuring out the right dose.

"I got it, mech. Don't worry," Warpath said sadly, handing over the full syringe while he took over the choke hold. He never put anyone to death directly as that was too sparkbreaking for him. The larger tank was glad to pass Wildrider over and check the dose one last time before he took Wildrider's undamaged leg and pressed between armor plates to find the pulse of the main line.

"No! Let me go, fraggers! Someone will come for me! You'll see!" Wildrider shouted, making a huge fuss. Warpath held the mech's helm closer to his chassis and tried to soothe him, feeling the erratic, stressed pulse of Wildrider's spark from within his chest.

"Easy, Wildrider. It's going to be -Whoosh!- fast..."

"Let me go! I'll be better!" Wildrider finally keened, feeling the other tank had found the line and was getting ready to stick him.

"Wildrider, hush...it's okay..."

"I'll be your frag toy! I'll do whatever you want!" he begged, thrashing as best he could in a last attempt to get away.

"Hold him, Warpath."

Wildrider shrieked when he felt the sharp prick of the needle and howled when he felt the lethal drug get forced into his lines. It felt cold and he made it quite clear he was in pain.p the entire time. The larger tank was just about to push the plunger down when the doors swung open.

"Stop! Oh, please stop! I came as fast as I could to get him! Is he still with us?"

"Oh, slag," the black and white tank swore, quickly taking the needle out and discarding the syringe. "I already...some of it is in him."

Wildrider barely heard anyone, his optics unfocused and his frame jerking slightly as the poison rushed through his frame. He made a soft gurgling sound, his main vents feeling like they were closing up as he twitched and shuddered in Warpath's arms.

"Oh, no...how much?" the rescuer asked, rushing to Wildrider's convulsing frame.

"Only four ccs. But the stuff is pretty powerful..."

"I can save him. Please, help me carry him to med bay."

Warpath cradled Wildrider's frame to his chest and rushed to the med bay beside the red and white assistant medic, his warm blue optics full of sorrow. First Aid might have come too late. Wildrider didn't look good at all and who knew what the effects of the drug would do to him if he did survive the ordeal.

"First Aid..."

"He can be saved, Warpath. I am sure of it!" First Aid said firmly, beckoning the tank to the closest medical cot where he could get to work. Warpath set Wildrider down and backed away, nervously waiting for more commands. "You don't have to stay, Warpath."

"Tell me if he's -Kabam!- alright in a few solar cycles, okay?" Warpath said softly, heading out of the med bay. He didn't want to get in the way of First Aid's work.

First Aid didn't respond, the mech already taking vital signs and checking symptoms. Wildrider seemed like he was fighting the poison relatively well on his own, his systems filtering it out as quickly as possible. His optics were refocusing, but First Aid got him on a energon cycling line and gave him medication that would reopen his inflamed venting system.

He sighed with relief when he heard the raspy venting fade, Wildrider thankfully breathing correctly once the main vents opened back up. First Aid saw the convulsing was stopping as well and Wildrider's optics focus on him. First Aid smiled behind his mask, waving a little at the bot.

"Don't worry, Wildrider. I'll make sure you're okay."

Wildrider couldn't speak for a few moments, shaking all over with the stress of being so close to dying and the last of the deadly medication being filtered out. He felt so weak after the ordeal, but he reached up and took First Aid by the arm for support.

"It's okay...I'll help you...I'll help you..." First Aid soothed, leaning down so he could gently hug Wildrider's quivering frame. The Decepticon clung to First Aid, hands curling around red and white armor plates so tightly First Aid couldn't pull away.

"Promise...it," Wildrider whispered, voice strained.

"I promise I will keep you safe and help you feel better. You'll be okay, Wildrider."

Once he heard that, Wildrider slumped back in the cot and passed out. His frame was still and his venting easy, but the near death experience had taken a good deal out of him. Right then his systems needed to reboot and heal themselves before he could fully take in the fact that someone had come to rescue him after all.


	7. Motormaster

Motormaster came to just as he was being hefted into a house. He growled deeply, optics unable to focus thanks to the sedatives he had been given beforehand. Everything felt slow and his hearing was muffled as he was carried into a place he knew was not the med bay or a prison cell. He heard voices around him but none mattered. It was too much work to try and figure everything out.

"He has to stay with you, Silverbolt. I don't want that fragger anywhere near me. If he gets loose, I'll teach him a lesson, too!"

"Slingshot, you will be kind to him. He has been through a great deal and the war is over now. We need to leave old rivalries behind us," Silverbolt answered, glowering at his gestalt mate. Slingshot didn't seem to care, simply ignoring his leader while he spoke.

"Whatever. I'll frag him up if he comes near me."

Silverbolt hurried to get Motormaster within his own private chambers before he woke up, the big truck likely going to have a problem with his new situation. The aerial relaxed only when he was inside his room with the door locked behind him and Motormaster laying groggily in the massive berth.

"Motormaster? Are you coming back around?" he asked softly, sitting on the edge of the berth to wait for an answer. Motormaster rumbled something and rolled over onto his side, covering his optics with an arm. The mech made a sound of complaint when the arm ached yet didn't move it.

Silverbolt sat quietly with Motormaster until the sedative wore off further, the flier watching as the former leader of the Stunticon gestalt returned to his old self. Motormaster stiffly sat up and locked optics with Silverbolt.

"You're dead," he hissed, making a feeble lunge at his master.

The collar picked up on the murderous intent and swiftly put an end to it. Motormaster let out a strangled sounding yelp as his entire frame was shot with electricity. He flopped over on the berth and clawed at his neck until the shock finished, the mech laying on his back panting heavily. He had forgotten what had happened to him, but now it all came rushing back once the sedative wore off.

"Motormaster! Are you alright?" Silverbolt asked quickly, trying to touch Motormaster's shoulder. The truck curled inward and moved away, his frame aching all over and his healing wounds stinging from the movement.

The black and purple truck said nothing in response, instead rolling over and covering his faceplate with a bulky arm. Silverbolt frowned, feeling his spark constrict. He was breaking Motormaster, one of the strongest and most aggressive mechs on the Decepticon side.

"I never meant to do this to you. I wanted you to have a second chance."

"Some of us don't want second chances. Get out and leave me alone," Motormaster answered, voice harsh and somewhat hoarse from screaming earlier.

Silverbolt got up and refrained from touching the grounder, instead heading for the door as Motormaster wished. Perhaps with some time to think the mech would calm down and accept the situation. It was unlikely, but who knew. Motormaster might realize he didn't have it that bad. The apartment was nice and there were a lot of bots right there who could love him someday.

'Please don't shut us out, Motormaster. I know it hurts, but we're going to try and make everything better. I know you won't believe what I tell you, but I want the best for you now.'

***

Motormaster lay in a dejected heap for the rest of the solar cycle, unmoving and quiet. He hated every one of the Aerialbots, but he hated Silverbolt most of all. The mech had singlehandedly destroyed him by putting on that collar. He would never be strong again so long as it was snuggly clipped around his neck. He would be a useless pet to parade around, brag about, and more than likely abuse.

'I'll kill them all someday. I don't care if the collar finishes me off in the process. I'm doing it,' he assured himself, intent on ending everyone when the opportunity presented itself.

Motormaster was plotting more when the door clicked open and Silverbolt walked in, the mech having been gone for cycles. The truck growled deeply and took up as much room on the berth as possible so it would be hard for Silverbolt to sit down. The aerial didn't take the hint and offered the larger mech a bowl of energon with copper shavings.

"I thought you might be hungry."

"Yeah, well I'm not. Leave me alone," Motormaster barked back, watching Silverbolt with distrustful garnet optics. He half expected Silverbolt to be in control of the collar, pressing some unseen button whenever he acted up.

"You have to eat something, Motormaster. If you want to be strong, anyway."

"I will always be strong, Autobot scum!" Motormaster snarled, knocking over the berthside table with a loud clatter.

After the noise and the shouting from the irate truck, the rest of the Aerialbots that were currently home came running. They worried about Silverbolt being in such close proximity to an unstable killer and were on call in case anything happened. Since it sounded like stuff was happening, Slingshot and Fireflight sprung into action to save the day.

"What is going on in here? Silverbolt, we're here to help!" Slingshot shouted, bursting into the room and tackling Motormaster without a second thought.

Motormaster snarled when he was grabbed, trying to fight back and shrieking when the collar registered that he was attempting to attack his masters. Slingshot punched him hard in the faceplate and his nose started to bleed, energon flowing like a miniature river down his faceplate. Motormaster didn't even feel the punch, his whole frame disabled from the fierce electric shock.

"Slingshot, stand down! Stand down!" Silverbolt shouted, throwing the mech off of Motormaster. The truck groaned when the collar finally stopped, leaving him feeling sapped of energy and will. He was left panting heavily in the berth with hardly any energy. Everything around him was blurred and muffled, his frame doing its best to reboot and repair itself from the sudden stress.

"He was attacking you! We heard the noise and-"

"Slingshot, you are not allowed in this room unless invited. Do not do this again! You've done far more damage than help!" Silverbolt snapped, glad that Fireflight hadn't blindly followed his gestalt brother into a senseless fight. The other mech hung back at the doorway, nervously regarding the scene that had played out before him.

"Fine! When he mauls you half to death you'll wish I had been there to save you!" Slingshot retorted, making sure to shove Motormaster on his way out. He pushed past Fireflight and stormed off to his own room.

"Do you need help, Silverbolt?"

"It would be best if he and I were alone for a while. I can see things are going to be difficult," Silverbolt sighed, rubbing his helm. Things were going to be difficult, indeed. Fireflight nodded and silently shut the door behind him, wanting to give them their space.

"Stay away..." Motormaster groaned when he felt Silverbolt touch him and prop him up against some of the berth's pillows. His voice sounded dulled thanks to his punched nose, his faceplate covered in energon. Motormaster could taste his own lifeblood as it dribbled down his face to his lips.

"I'll clean you up. I don't think it's broken, which is a good thing."

Silverbolt got out a drying cloth from his subspace and started fussing with Motormaster. The mech grumbled at the attention but didn't push Silverbolt away. He was scared to touch the bot lest the collar zap him for it. Silverbolt was thankful that Motormaster stayed still and allowed himself to be taken care of, dabbing away the energon.

"Stop it...hurts," he growled when Silverbolt checked to make sure his nose wasn't broken. Motormaster tried to turn his head away but the aerial held it still without much trouble. Motormaster was too weak to put up much of a real fight.

"It's not broken! I'm glad for that, but so sorry this happened to you at all. I will make sure the others don't bother you while you're recovering-or at all for that matter," Silverbolt said firmly, laying Motormaster down so he could check out his main wounds while he was at it. The Stunticon was complacent enough to be dealt with, so it was a good a time as any.

"Back off..." Motormaster said weakly, optics half offlined as Silverbolt did as he liked. He unwrapped the mesh bandage and checked the medical staples. He got out the special nanite cream that would help heal and calm the inflamed area, rubbing the medicine into the recovering wound. "Frag, that stings! Leave me the Pit alone!"

"You need this to get better. I think you'll thank me later for it," Silverbolt said gently, patting Motormaster's shoulder when he was done. "Motormaster, we really should talk about everything that has happened. It might make both of us feel more at peace once we make amends..."

"I don't want to make amends with your lot! I'm going to kill you all as soon as I can!" Motormaster hissed, malicious as could be. "You're trying to break me and make me into a fragging pet. Well guess what?! I belong to no one but myself!"

"No, you won't ever be a pet!" Silverbolt said quickly, putting his hands up in defense. Motormaster snorted loudly at him in response.

"Then why am I in a collar?! Answer me that, Autobot scum!"

"You're in a collar because Ratchet told me that was how it had to be. It's a law now unless you are deemed harmless to society."

"So you keep me as a slave and attempt to justify it!" Motormaster barked back, rolling over so his back was to Silverbolt. "I tire of your voice. Shut up and go away."

"I'm going to recharge here, Motormaster. This is my room, you know."

Motormaster growled, feeling weight on the other side of the berth which he wasn't occupying. Hating the idea of sharing a berth with a bot he wanted to murder, the mech struggled to get up. Silverbolt motioned to stop him, but it was too late. Motormaster stiffly got out of the berth and lay down on the mesh carpet like a massive mechanimal.

"You don't have to-"

"Shut up."

"Motormaster, please be reasonable! There is a great deal of room on the berth for us both!"

"I like it down here. So shut up already."

Silverbolt sighed, hanging his head. His wings drooped on his back when the realization of what he had gotten himself into sunk in. Motormaster was not going to be easily convinced of anything, most of all that he could be loved. The truck was going to revert to the emotions he was used to and reject everything else.

'Please don't do that to yourself, Motormaster. You're a good mech somewhere in there! I know you are,' he thought, looking down at the floor to find the sleeping form of a bot he had once been at war with.

Surprisingly he looked calm while he recharged, his faceplate peaceful. Nightmares didn't seem to plague him that lunar cycle, the bot completely still and quiet. Silverbolt knew better than to try and touch him, but he did so anyway. He reached over the side of the berth and gently placed a hand on Motormaster's back. The truck shifted but in a way that brought him closer to the hand that touched him. Silverbolt rubbed between thick armor plates before he lay back in the berth and shut off his optics. It had been a long solar cycle.


	8. Astrotrain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much about Inferno and Astrotrain having bonding moments. Some tender loving care for our favorite triple changer is always in order.

Astrotrain was easy to love and Inferno was glad for it, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing solar cycle. The triple changer trusted him and felt like an equal, the only reminder that he was anything but being the collar around his neck. Regardless, he adored Inferno like nothing else. Never before had anyone cared for him to the degree that the red and black fire truck did and he knew deep down that it was honest affection.

"Can we go outside this solar cycle? I need some fresh air," Astrotrain asked, staring out of a large window at the city below. It wasn't bustling, but there were some bots moving about on the streets. The population was still so low that more than half the city wasn't even inhabited yet.

"Sure we can! Where would you like to go?" Inferno called, currently trying to find something to eat in their expansive kitchen area. Astrotrain's shuttle wings perked up.

"The park would be nice!"

"Sounds good to me! Maybe we can see some mechanimals out there if we're lucky."

Inferno came into the living room and tossed Astrotrain some iron jerky, the triple changer happy for the food offering. He gnawed on it contentedly while his companion guzzled down a large energon cube. At least now there was no energon shortage. The planet had healed enough so that the wells were restocked and almost overflowing with fuel. That and all the metal deposits where their kind acquired other minerals had regrown in their long absence.

Once the two mechs finished their food, they got up and lumbered towards the door of the massive apartment. After clomping down flights of stairs to the bottom, they arrived at the main door of the building and stepped out onto the streets. No one gave them a second glance, other Autobots walking about with or without their Decepticons. Many of the losing party looked miserable with their owners, but some had the same sort of relationship that Inferno and Astrotrain had made with one another.

"How long is it to the park? I only came into Iacon for transporting purposes before the war," Astrotrain asked, curious about the healed city. "I always heard there was a nice park here but couldn't visit since I was working."

Inferno smiled. "It's not too far from here! And it really is as gorgeous as bots say!"

It took a breem of walking before the pair reached the arched gateway to the park. Astrotrain gawked at the area, his optics wide. Never before had he seen something so beautiful and well taken care of. He had always been a city mech, raised in Tarn where no parks or natural cyber forests flourished. The mech had grown up in an industrial world and took an industrial job, unable to see anything else save for dark metal and lifeless structures.

"I take it you like the view?" Inferno chuckled, seeing the youngling-like wonder that was flitting across Astrotrain's faceplate. The mech nodded slowly, unsure what to do with the sensory input. There was so much to take in! 

"This is awesome! I wish Tarn had had one of these..."

Astrotrain was inside the park in a flash, his optics bright with excitement. There were so many new things he had never seen before! The massive mech went around to all the growing cyber plants and examined them, curious and in one of the best moods he had ever experienced. To think that bots had this to visit all the time was amazing!

Inferno laughed softly and let Astrotrain run free, the former Decepticon having quite a good time. The fire truck didn't want to get right in his faceplate and monitor his every step, so he hung back and let the experience sink in for Astrotrain.

The purple and gray bot had no thoughts whatsoever about Inferno as he wandered about, gawking at everything. He wasn't paying much mind to where he was going either, intent on the wildlife surrounding him. Suddenly the shuttle mech came to an abrupt stop when he ran into something, the something quite strong to not fall over upon impact. Grunting since he had hit his nose, he rubbed the aching spot on his faceplate and took a step back to see what he had walked into.

His optics widened when he saw he hadn't run into something, but someONE. Astrotrain felt his tank sink when the bot turned around and glared him down, the mech certainly an Autobot and not a friendly one. Chunky shuttle wings tucked close to his sides in shame and admittedly some fear. He knew who the mech was.  
'He's gonna kill me,' Astrotrain thought in horror, optics locking with those of Springer.

"Decepticon scum! Where is your master?" Springer snarled, optics narrowed with hate. He was a fellow triple changer, but he had no love for Astrotrain. They had never been on good terms even before the war, the two competing transport vessels. Astrotrain usually was ahead of the helicopter type on shipments and the small rivalry had morphed into something much more vicious and hateful when the war began.

"He's-"

"Don't speak to me, you disgusting filth! I don't see why any of your kind should be given a second chance to go wandering about as you please. We all know you never change," Springer growled, rotor blades flaring dangerously. It reminded Astrotrain of Vortex when the Combaticon got agitated and helicopters were never fun when they were riled up.

"Inferno is-"

"I told you not to speak!" Springer snarled, his old grudge combined with a deep hate for Decepticons driving him. The mech suddenly uppercut Astrotrain hard in the jaw, the shuttle feeling something snap before there was an explosion of pain in his faceplate. 

He recoiled, holding his jaw with both hands. It was broken or dislocated for sure and now he couldn't call for Inferno or fight back. The gray and purple mech backed away, trying to inch closer to where he had last seen his protector. 

"Running from me, are you? I don't think so!" 

Springer lunged forward and Astrotrain bolted, using the moment to escape. He crashed through the underbrush and came out into the clearing he had last seen Inferno. Wild optics searched for Inferno, but he didn't see the fire truck. Springer grabbed his wing and yanked, Astrotrain letting out a bellowing roar of pain despite his damaged jaw. 

Inferno had gone to a recycling container to get rid of an energon cube when he heard the noise. He knew Astrotrain was in trouble and rushed to where he heard the howl. When he got into the clearing he saw what was going on and shouted at Springer to stop.

"Let go of him!" he barked, the normally jovial mech turning dead serious. Thankfully Springer released Astrotrain's wing and turned on Inferno. He frowned, pointing an accusing finger at Astrotrain.

"He attacked me! I could have him put down!"

Astrotrain's optics widened when he heard the lie and shook his head, one hand still holding his jaw. He stared at Inferno and silently screamed that it wasn't true. He had done nothing wrong whatsoever. Inferno knew and kept his attention on Springer.

"If he did, I would have known. The collar would have shocked him and I would have been given a ping about it. You're a liar, Springer. It's sad that you hate Decepticons and yet you act just like the very worst of them."  
"How dare you say that to my faceplate!"

For a moment Springer and Inferno faced off, the former allies now bitter enemies. Astrotrain slunk away behind Inferno, holding out until the two decided who would win. But he knew that if Springer attacked Inferno he wouldn't hang back and watch. Even if he'd get shocked, he would help defend the only bot who cared about him. Inferno was all he had.

Thankfully the standoff didn't turn violent among the Autobots, the two growling words to each other before they turned away and went their own ways. Inferno was at Astrotrain's side in a flash, his blue optics full of worry. Astrotrain tried to perk up his wings to communicate that he was okay, but one was burning with pain and wouldn't move correctly. 

"Astrotrain, we need to get you to med bay. Primus, I wish I had been there to prevent that! We've fallen so far if even after the war we continue to attack one another..." Inferno hissed, taking Astrotrain's hand and pulling him towards the entrance of the park. They needed to get to Ratchet and make sure nothing was seriously damaged on the triple changer's frame.

Astrotrain followed obediently, unable to say anything beyond a few mumbled sounds. It wasn't going over well and he eventually gave up completely, silent as they rushed through the streets and up the stairs of New Iacon's med bay. The mech at the front desk saw the scene, he commed for one of the medics in the back to see to the incoming bot. The swinging doors of the main medical room opened to reveal the famous red and white medic, Ratchet.

"Springer attacked him the klick I went to recycle an energon cube! I think he might have a broken jaw and the stupid bot pulled really hard on his wing," Inferno blurted out, gently leading Astrotrain closer to the gruff CMO. "If he did serious damage I'm reporting him. I don't care if we fought together once, he's so cruel I hate to know him at all!"

Ratchet sighed, ribbing his temples. "Of course there has to be some drama! Anyway, bring him in and find a seat that's comfortable. I'll take a look at the damage."

Ratchet went to get his tools while Astrotrain sat down on one of the cots and waited in silent pain, his optics locked on Inferno. The fire truck frowned, his expression of pure concern. He reached out and gently touched Astrotrain's swollen jaw, the massive triple changer letting it happen. Rumbling softly, he bowed his helm and allowed the contact despite the sore spot that was gently being prodded at.

"Don't touch him, you might move the jaw further out of place," Ratchet snapped, Inferno quickly pulling his hand away. He hadn't noticed the approach of the medic and winced when he was caught doing something he shouldn't. Not only that, but he had made it obvious that he and Astrotrain were relatively close with each other.

Ratchet got to work with some portable scans and determined the jaw was dislocated and so was the wing. Astrotrain was about to lay on his front so his wing was easily accessible when Ratchet took him by the helm and swiftly pushed his jaw back into place. The shuttle mech yelped and pulled back, but when he touched his faceplate he didn't feel any pain. Grinning sheepishly at Ratchet, the medic waved for him to roll over so the wing could be dealt with.

"You're welcome. Now move it so I can get your wing back into shape."

Astrotrain mumbled a thank you before he did as was told and lay down on his front so his damaged wing could be easily reached. Ratchet numbed the area with some nanotech cream before he began, carefully reconstructing the frayed wires and torn protoflesh of the wing joint. Astrotrain was a good patient compared to many of the Decepticons that were brought in, quiet and placid as he was worked on.

"That looks good. You'll be numb for a while yet, but when feeling comes back I want you to do all the movement you can with the wing and if anything isn't working or you get a sharp pain, come right back. Wings Of aerials are such delicate things."

"Yessir," Astrotrain said, glad to obey and be agreeable. He didn't want to get on anyone else's bad side after what had happened that solar cycle.

"Take him home and make sure he doesn't sleep on that wing," Ratchet said briskly, making optic contact with Inferno before the bots left. The fire truck nodded and assured him that he would keep Astrotrain from hurting himself, glad when they could leave and be alone together. 

"Astrotrain, I hope that didn't ruin the park for you..."

"It would take a lot more than that to wreck something so nice. I'm okay," Astrotrain said, good natured as always. "But my wing aches a little."

Inferno stopped in the middle of the street and gave the triple changer a gentle hug, Astrotrain rumbling happily in return. The two stood together enveloped in a mutual exchange of affection, helms tipped forward so their foreheads touched. The bad things that had happened only a little while ago were forgotten, the growing tenderness between them only strengthening from their experiences. Things would never be easy, but at least they weren't alone.


	9. Wildrider

Wildrider felt worse than he had in a long while, the black and red mech slowly coming to after being heavily sedated for easier recovery. The memory files of him nearly dying and the agonizing pain that had coursed through him when the low dose of poison had been administered lingered as he tried to online his optics and see where he was now.

'Maybe I'm in the Well. Breakdown might not have been full of slag when he talked about all that stuff...' he thought, attempting to move his arm and see if he was even in his frame anymore. He was greeted with a burning ache and groaned. Yep, he was still alive if it hurt.

"Oh, you're awake! Please, lay still and wait for the sedatives to wear off! I'll get you some energon and a heating pad for your arm. The IV caused you to swell a bit under your armor plates," a soft voice called from above. Wildrider grinned like a doped up Pit devil, wondering what angel had come to pamper him.

"Alwas knew I waz one aaaawesome fragger..." he mumbled groggily to himself, trying to roll over and move around despite the orders not to.

First Aid returned with a heating pad, some liquid energon, and a tube of cream that would stop the aching in Wildrider's recovering wounds. The areas that had been stitched before he had been taken to death row had contracted rust. He had made sure the infection was gone, but the areas were still sore and needed to be closely tended to.

"I'll help you sit up. Please don't do all that moving about! It will only cause more hurt!" First Aid insisted, torn between pushing Wildrider down so he couldn't fuss about and helping him to sit upright. He chose the latter and swiftly propped up the sports model with multiple pillows.

"Whore you?" Wildrider grumbled, optics unfocused and confused. First Aid wasn't offended by the course language, understanding that it was from sedation. Normally it would have distressed him a great deal to be called a whore, so he was almost thankful that Wildrider was loopy.

"I'm First Aid. You met me before," First Aid said gently, taking Wildrider's arm and placing the heating pack over the elbow joint where the IV had been. Wildrider sighed contentedly at the relief the heat offered, soothing the aching pain.

"I know you real good..." Wildrider answered, once again moving to make sure he wasn't in fact dead. The last time he had heard the name 'First Aid' he had been dying.

Wildrider was thankful when his optics finally decided to focus and showed him the room. He was in a berth room of sorts, laid down in a berth full of soft mesh blankets and pillows. Confused as to how he got there and not into another jail cell, he stared at First Aid in pure shock.

"You...saved me?"

"Sadly I came too late to completely get you out of harm's way. They had already given you four ccs of the lethal drug when I arrived and took you back to med bay. Thankfully your frame shook the poison and you'll make a full recovery! Not only that, but your previously wounded leg will heal up quite nicely with good care. I will not allow any one of my patients to be in pain or in bad health while I still function!" First Aid said with a determined tone. He meant it when he said he wouldn't let anyone suffer if he could help it.

Wildrider stared at First Aid with surprise. The little red and white medic meant what he said and for some reason he had come to rescue him. The former Decepticon couldn't begin to comprehend why a bot would want to save someone like him. So he did what he thought was best and asked flat out why he had been spared.

"Why? Why'd you bother with me, huh?" he asked, trying to shake the last of the sedatives that were lazily flowing through his energon lines.

"You deserve a second chance just like everyone else. I know you aren't as mean and scary as you make yourself out to be and I decided that it would be best if we could start over. After all, we all want to live happy lives-why on Cybertron should we rob certain bots of something we were all fighting for?" First Aid smiled behind his face mask, his visor brightening to show that he was pleased. "I brought you back to my apartment above med bay. I have the slightly smaller area compared to Ratchet since he is head medic, but I don't mind one bit. There is ample room for both of us to live comfortably here."

"You brought me back to your house? You're out of your fragging mind-but I like it. You're my kind of bot!" Wildrider exclaimed, trying to sit up further and finding it was more difficult than he expected. Everything hurt. "I've never met a bot who would bring me into their apartment without handcuffs! Heh, you're whacked."

"I am perfectly sane, thank you. I know you won't be much difficulty when you see how important it is to be kind to others."

Wildrider snorted at that, about to refuse the point when he felt the weight of the collar clipped around his neck. Oh, right. He was handcuffed well enough as it was. First Aid knew it, too, feeling perfectly safe in sharing a space with him. The black and red mech looked away from the young medic's gaze and glowered at his hands. Once he had been so good at killing and now he was reduced to a useless pet.

The realization set in more than ever when he glanced around the apartment room. He was tucked in comfortably inside a berth that could only be First Aid's, the bot's scent all around it. The mesh blankets were his and so were the pillows. Wildrider was entirely enveloped in the warmth of the medic's generosity and good spark. He wished he could hate the ambulance, but each time he tried his spark ached.

"So...I belong to you now." Wildrider stated, optics showing more sorrow than he wished they did. He wanted to keep his stupid emotions to himself.

"No, no! You don't belong to me! You...I...I want you to be free! It's just our world is not a good place as it once was. We're trying to control the Decepticons and really all you bots want is the same as what the Autobots want. I know it."

"Wish you were the Prime, kid. You'd do well," Wildrider snickered quietly, although there was not much humor to his words. Regardless of being saved, he saw there was little hope for him ever being truly free again.

"Are you hurting?" First Aid gently, reaching out in a way that said he was ready to help give any repairs. Wildrider shook his head.

"No, I'm fine. Go do...whatever medics do. Save the world and all the suffering bots and all that."

First Aid slowly backed away and decided that was his command to leave Wildrider alone. The bot had just woken up from a terribly traumatic experience and he surely needed some space to think without being stared at. The little medic got to the door of the room and closed it halfway before he called out that if Wildrider needed anything at all, he could press a small pager button on the berth side table.

"Thanks..." Wildrider muttered, glancing over at the pager.

He was grateful for the time alone, glad when he heard the click of the door. Wildrider kept his composure for a few moments before it snapped, his tendency to flash between moods appearing. The mech was furious with himself. He should have taken the path of death to freedom in another world, not fight it in order to get back to chains! Cursing his idiocy, the mech grabbed the pager and hurled it across the room in a fit of rage.

Wildrider imagined what would become of him, images of him being fragged senseless and used like a cheap whore, the stabbing pain of each thrust fabricated within the darkness of his mind. He hissed and recoiled in the berth, trying to escape the bad thoughts. First Aid would sell him or give him away to someone cruel and out for vengeance.

"I won't do it!" Wildrider howled, the sudden outburst much louder than he intended. The bot might have been damaged, but he pushed past the pain of his physical wounds and got out of the berth, throwing the pillows and blankets about the room.

He snarled and punched a wall as hard as he possibly could in his condition, one of his legs barely touching the ground since it ached so much. Wildrider felt his hand explode with pain and he roared at the feeling. He understood pain. He understood what it felt like to be abused. He understood what his place was in the world and he would not have it.

"Wildrider! Oh goodness, please get back in the berth! Your leg!" First Aid's terrified voice suddenly called from the entrance, the door now open to reveal the red and white bot's frame. Wildrider turned to face him, panting heavily and shaking from the stress of his situation.

"Shoot me!" Wildrider snarled, optics wild. "I don't want to live if I'm going to be a frag toy and a pet! Fragger, take me out! I can't do this!"

Wildrider was panting heavily, sides heaving as he locked First Aid in his fierce glare. The quiet medic slowly approached with his arms open. Wildrider growled deeply, a warning to stay away. First Aid ignored the clear signal and gently wrapped his arms around Wildrider once he was within reach, pulling the panic stricken bot close to his frame.

Surprisingly there was little resistance from Wildrider, the sedan slumping heavily into the hug. Before long his own arms had come up and were wrapped in a death grip around First Aid's frame. The medic soothed the hurts of the other bot until the heavy panting from Wildrider hushed and the shaking stilled. After a breem of standing together, Wildrider was calmed and still, helm resting heavily on First Aid's shoulder.

"Just kill me already, you dumb fragger," Wildrider hissed, biting back washer fluid tears while he squeezed the medic harder in the hug.

"It's going to be okay Wildrider. You're in shock from what has happened-and I don't blame you! It was so cruel what they did to turn you into this. There is such a good bot down behind all the hurt. I'm going to try my very best to repair it all."  
"Yeah? Well there is a lot in there that you can't hope to slagging fix. I'm busted up all over the place. Even you aren't stupid enough to ignore that," Wildrider scoffed, spiteful of his condition. His mental state had never been good after the gestalt had been forced together by Shockwave and after that he only grew worse.

"I will still try to help you."

"Dumbaft Autobots think they can save everything, huh?"

"I wish what you said was right. Not all of us want to save your faction."

"Touché."

"I would like it if you would rest. Your leg must be aching after all this standing up!" First Aid said gently, helping Wildrider back into the berth before he examined the healing leg. Thankfully the outburst hadn't caused the welding to tear, so things were okay. "Would you like me to bring you dinner?"

"Sure, you can serve me with a golden spoon and slag," the other bot chuffed, rolling his optics.

First Aid smiled behind his face mask before he padded out of the room. This time he left the door open as he went to prepare some gelled energon with some medical energon mixed in. It was like a soup of sorts and thankfully looked appealing. He returned to the room where Wildrider lay, silent and with no signs that he had been destroying the room only moments before.

"Did you hurt your hand?" First Aid asked with concern when he saw Wildrider picking at his damaged hand. The mech huffed and shook the appendage.

"Nah, just punched a wall. I do it a lot and nothing got broke. So I'm all good," he grumbled, reluctantly letting First Aid check it anyway. The medic saw it was only swollen and the internal components weren't damaged. The black and red mech had some tough hand armor, the comment about wall-punching being regular making a great deal more sense. He was modified so he could get away with the strange avoid.

"Would you like to eat alone?" First Aid asked quietly, ready to leave on command. Wildrider was stressed from his situation and adding any more angst to his thoughts would be bad for his health. The Stunticon thought for a few moments before he spoke.

"I don't care. You can stay if you want to stare at your pet or whatever."

That was the best 'yes' First Aid could expect at that time and happily settled down in a chair and ate with his rescued mech, thankful there was a breakthrough at last.


	10. Motormaster

Silverbolt had no idea what Motormaster acted like outside wartime behavior, but it was obvious something was seriously wrong with the massive gray and black truck. He was surly and aloof, sulking on his own in whatever room didn't have anyone else in it. Silverbolt would catch him dozing in a heap in the window seat of the apartment, his black plated frame soaking up the sunlight.

There had been no further incidents since the attack on the Stunticon, Motormaster choosing to stay as far away from the Aerialbots as possible. If one entered the room he was in, the big mech would rise and lumber away until he found another area of solitude. He refused to eat or drink in front of anyone, growling softly when given his fuel and waiting until everyone left him alone before he took any sustenance. There was no love between him and the majority of the Aerialbots, the mech untrusting and oddly skittish around the gestalt.

Silverbolt hadn't found a way to get Motormaster to sleep in the berth since his arrival at the apartment. There were berthrooms for all the Aerialbots yet there was no place for Motormaster to recharge unless he stayed with one of the aerial types. Each time he retreated to Silverbolt's room he would lay down on the floor like a beast and refused to move elsewhere. He felt he was a pet and was playing the part one hundred percent.

-Ratchet? I need to ask your advice on something that's been bothering me for a long time- Silverbolt commed as he lay sleepless in his berth, glancing over at the impressive frame of the black and gray truck snoring on the floor.

-Is it medical? Because we both know you haven't come in for your tune-up and you're overdue-

-No, it isn't that. It's Motormaster-

-Oh? Is something wrong with him?- 

-You told me when I picked him up that things would get better and that he would accept his new station in life if he wanted to survive. And now I'm not sure if he wants to survive at all. He has kept away from everyone here and won't speak a word. Then he sleeps on the floor because he refuses to take a berth. Not only that, but he leaves the room he's in when anyone else enters and won't eat unless he's entirely alone-

-Did you abuse him? Or one of your gestalt mates?- Ratchet asked, frowning in his office as he spoke. -Sounds like he's mentally scarred from something-

-Slingshot got into a fight with him and since then he won't speak. Ratchet, it's killing me. I don't want him to hate us forever. I'm trying to show him we can make amends but he won't stay long enough to speak with. The bot shuts himself off from us-

Ratchet sighed, leaning against his desk. He put down the data pad he had been working on, the patient's files able to wait until later. Right then he had to help Silverbolt sort out his predicament.

-Might as well bring him in so I can see if he's got something wrong with him. It doesn't sound one bit like the same mech we all know. Motormaster was never the quiet sort-

-I'll bring him right away. Can you take him now or is it too late?- Silverbolt asked, checking the time. It was just after dinner for most bots, but the New Iacon Medical Bay was always open in case of emergencies.

-Bring him in now, I can take him. It's been a slow solar cycle as it is-

Silverbolt assured Ratchet he would come soon and thanked him one million times over, so grateful there might be a way to help the former Decepticon to come out of his shell. The aerial glanced over the side of the berth once more where Motormaster was currently recharging, the massive truck's side rising and falling peacefully as he napped. That was essentially all he did those days.

"Ratchet needs to take a look at you in med bay, Motormaster. We need to go," Silverbolt called out, hesitant to see the reaction. Motormaster woke sluggishly and chuffed at him, light purple faceplate lackluster and flat once Silverbolt got a glimpse of it. A moment later he rose to his pedes, waiting for orders. "Are you feeling well?"

"Would you feel well if you were a slave?!" Motormaster suddenly snarled, tourmaline purple optics flaring with hate. "If I am your pet, use me like one! I am not your equal and I won't ever be. Got it?!"

Motormaster raised a hand as if to strike the other bot and hissed when there was a small shock from the collar. There was nothing he could do against the Aerialbot and has no choice but to stand down. Silverbolt winced at his words, feeling ten times worse about having rescued Motormaster. The black and gray truck didn't see his adoption as a rescue at all, but rather a set of chains to keep him down.

"Ratchet still needs to do some sort of tune-up on you. Are you willing to go?"

"Why ask me as if I have a choice?!" Motormaster bellowed, grabbing a lamp and hurling it across the room. "Treat me like what I am if you want to keep me here! Abuse me! Hurt me! NEVER speak to me as if we are equals again!"

Silverbolt was stunned by the strange behavior of the Stunticon, feeling he needed to get Motormaster to Ratchet even faster now. He led the way out of the apartment with Motormaster following darkly behind, hunched over in a way that made him look somehow more menacing. His presence was dark, looming beside the aerial as they made their way towards the medical bay.

Silverbolt was relieved when they arrived and were admitted without any wait, Motormaster tensing as they were brought to a private room. It was big enough to fit him and Silverbolt easily, the medical berth in the left corner appearing comfortable and as unthreatening as possible.

"I'm sure you can sit down if you like," Silverbolt offered when he saw Motormaster was starting to pace, refusing to stay still for even a moment. The Stunticon ignored the offer to sit, optics flicking nervously about the room. He felt trapped and it scared him more than he would admit.

"Alright, let's get this done quick. I'm sure none of us want to be here all that much," Ratchet's gruff, no-shit voice said from the door. He closed it behind him and raised an optic ridge when he saw Motormaster whirl around and back up towards a wall so no one could sneak up on him. It was a big warning sign to the medic that the truck wasn't going to behave nicely.

"Motormaster, sit down. Ratchet just wants to make sure you're recovering well from everything."

"I don't want to sit there. I don't want to be here at all. I'm FINE." 

"Cut the slag, Motormaster. Sit down and behave. This won't take long."

Ratchet waved his hands at the bigger mech and grinned inwardly when Motormaster backed himself up in the direction of the berth. There was a low growl from the mech that vibrated around the room, his purple optics full of distrust. He did not want to obey and feared what might happen if he did. Silverbolt didn't make any moves to shock him, so he stood his ground against the medic.

"On the berth, Motormaster," Ratchet snapped, pushing the other mech like a skittish mechanimal until he was cornered against the wall, the berth, and Ratchet. He had no choice but to move onto the padded slab. Motormaster showed his dentas before he finally retreated onto the berth to get away from the red and white terror that was the Head Medic.

"Motormaster, don't worry. It's not going to hurt," Silverbolt assured, seeing how was eyeing Ratchet dangerously. At any moment he might snap and potentially cause damage.

"Alright, let me take a look at you," Ratchet said, getting a light made for checking optic functions. Motormaster pulled his head away out of reach and refused the attentions, silent and surly. He had no love for the medic who had ordered the shock collar to be put around his neck. "Quit being a brat. Let me work on you and see what's going on."

There was suddenly a short struggle followed by a sharp yelp after the sound of electric buzz from the shock collar. When Silverbolt saw the aftermath of the small scuffle, Motormaster was being poked and prodded, Ratchet in full control while the former Decepticon sat in unconcealed misery. Purple optics met light blue and silently demanded the reason why he had been brought there. Silverbolt would tell him later once everything was sorted out.

"He's recovered well from when he was taken in but is running quite low on fuel. You give him big portions multiple times a solar cycle, don't you?"

Silverbolt looked horrified at the news, optics wide. "Of course! He never eats when we are near him, though. He prefers to be alone."

"For obvious reasons-he's slowly been trying to starve himself to death. Haven't you, Motormaster?"

"What if I was?! You don't care," Motormaster hissed, yanking himself away from Ratchet's hold. "I request permission to go home,...MASTER."

Motormaster fixed Silverbolt in his dark glare, hoping it hurt to be called such a name. Silverbolt looked as though he had been slapped, shocked into silence with the comment. Ratchet vented inwardly and watched the two square off.

"Silverbolt, I want to talk to you privately for a little while. Motormaster can stay here," Ratchet said, leading the other mech out while locking Motormaster inside the recovery room. He pulled Silverbolt away into his office and sat him down, a stern expression on his faceplate. 

"Ratchet, what can I do? I don't want him to die!"

"He won't start eating because he is ordered, so I suggest trying to find him a companion. Another former Decepticon might snap him back into place and make him feel like he has more power. It's obvious he isn't himself from both lack of fuel and also developing depression. I don't know what Slingshot or any of the others have done to him while you aren't looking, but he shows signs of abuse."

Silverbolt felt like a wretched person when he was told the rest of his gestalt were likely torturing Motormaster behind his back. He would have a long talk with them when he got back to the apartment to find out what was going on.

"I'll go to the auction area tomorrow. Let me know if anyone is sent here for repairs, okay?"

"Will do, Silverbolt. Now go get your mech from my recovery room. He's probably thrown a fit and made a mess in there by now.

Motormaster had done nothing when Ratchet and Silverbolt returned for him, the mech simply sitting dejectedly on the medical berth. Silverbolt called for him to come and he did as told, following placidly. Ratchet watched them leave and hoped Silverbolt could get through to Motormaster before he truly gave up and finished himself off. The suicide rate among captured Decepticons was incredibly high and he would hate to see another fall victim to death. Their race was so weakened and small it was like watching an endangered species of mechanimal succumbing to poaching.

'We have wronged each other for so long...Primus, we need to do something right.'

***

That lunar cycle when Motormaster came to the berthroom to recharge on the floor, Silverbolt was awake and waiting for him. The truck looked away and sat down regardless, refusing to speak or acknowledge the other mech was there at all. He had just laid down when he felt hands on his neck, the warmth foreign and scary. Thinking he would be strangled, the Stunticon pulled back and curled his upper lip in a snarl.

"Don't touch me." 

"Motormaster, I'm so sorry."

"I'm sick of hearing you snivel at me about being sorry. Shut up and go to sleep."

Silverbolt took something out of his subspace and watched as Motormaster flinched involuntarily, ready to receive a shock from the remote to the collar. Instead he felt the band of metal around his neck clip open automatically and fall with a soft clink to the floor. He stared at Silverbolt in stunned silence, unsure what had just happened.

"I suggest using the fire exit and from there using the back walkways. I have five hundred credits for you and some supplies that should get you to a city far from here. Maybe you can find the others who are on the run and stay with them. Please, be free again. I can't bear to see you like this anymore, sleeping at my pedes-it's wrong."

"Is this a trick?!" Motormaster snarled, spittle coming from his mouth as he spoke. "Are you trying to make me in debt to you?"

"No, Motormaster. As your arch nemesis, I am offering you a chance to fight back. Return to the life you had before of freedom so you can fight the oppression here."

Silverbolt knew there was every chance that Motormaster would attack him now, yet he was willing to take the risk. His life was no greater than the Stunticon's and if he died because of his choice, so be it. His life was in Motormaster's hands now. The truck seemed too confused to fight him, dazed with the sudden rush of freedom and lack of fear. He could live again at long last. 

"Until next time, then. I will fight you another solar cycle and we will see who has the stronger gestalt," Motormaster growled, turning toward the fire exit door that was in the berthroom. "I will never be collared again."

"Goodbye, Motormaster."

"Yeah, yeah. Same to you, Silverbolt. Guess we might be equals after all."

Motormaster glanced back once before he disappeared from the apartment into the night, clambering down the fire escape stairs to his regained freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have plans for ol' Motormaster and Silverbolt. Their paths will cross again soon!


	11. Wildrider

Wildrider was recovering well, now able to stand and walk stiffly around his new home. First Aid didn't have a huge apartment, but it could comfortably fit both of them. Honestly anything was better than a death row jail cell, Wildrider still shocked at how the little red and white medic had come to save him in the knick of time. He owed First Aid big now and he had no idea how he would repay him. There weren't a great deal of options when one was a slave...pet...whatever he was.

'I don't even know what he likes! Frag, I don't know what ANY medic would like. Probably some weird tool I know nothing about.' he mused as he wandered into the living room and crashed on the couch to think it over. What could he do to show his appreciation without being too ridiculous and Autobot-ish?

"Wildrider? How are you doing?" First Aid's soft spoken voice asked as the timid medic entered the room, the mech carrying a a tin of mineral sticks and a small cube of energon. He offered each to the black and red sedan, Wildrider happy to snag the free food. 

"Fine. How are you, pipsqueak?" he returned as politely as he could, his usual snarky grin plastered on his faceplate despite his best efforts not to show it. First Aid smiled, his face mask not in place while he was in his own home. Once again Wildrider was surprised to learn the ambulance wasn't afraid to be in his presence and trusted him enough to lay optics on his uncovered self.

"I'm very well, thank you! It was a long solar cycle of work, although all the patients are recovering well! We cannot lose a single bot now that we are trying to rebuild. Every life matters."

"Even mine, huh?" Wildrider snorted, stretching out on the couch and feeling a warm sense of happiness spread through him. He was worth something at least. "I still think you're crazy to let me lose in your apartment."  
"You aren't as dangerous as you like to portray," First Aid said, shrugging it off. "I'm not afraid of you like the others are because I know you aren't trying to cause trouble. Trouble just finds you."

"Oh, sure. That's a good way to put it," Wildrider snickered, moving his legs so First Aid could join him on the couch. The medic sat with a quiet sigh, leaning back into the cushions with relief. He had been on his pedes all solar cycle and it felt wonderful to be relaxing in the comfort of his home.

Wildrider shifted closer, irritating as could be while trying to show how much good he was capable of. First Aid wanted some cuddly pet to snuggle up with, Wildrider was sure of it. There was no way the little medic wanted something like him, an aggressive and hardly sane individual who had been shoved into Death Row almost the instant he was captured. First Aid simply smiled at him when the other mech sidled up beside him.

"Wildrider, is something bothering you?" 

"No, why would it be?"

"You only do this close proximity business when you're upset. Is something hurting you? Your leg?" First Aid asked softly, reaching out to take hold of the black and red mech's bandaged appendage. The wound was healing well, but the medical stitches keeping protoflesh together we're still in place.

"Hey, woah! No need to go touching me all over the place!" Wildrider yelped, swiftly backing away. "Never took you to be the horny, grabby type. Heheh, you got a lot of secrets, huh?"

First Aid inwardly rolled his optics at the stupid display from Wildrider, easily cornering him against the arm and back of the couch before manhandling the fussy sedan into a better position. Wildrider growled and cursed when his damaged leg was gently propped up on the couch across First Aid's lap, the mech it was attached to trying to death-roll out of the medic's surprisingly strong grasp like some sort of cyber-alligator.

"Shhh...there, there. I just want to be sure all is healing well and you aren't in any pain. I know you do your best to hide that sort of thing."

"Owww! Watch it-ow! Frag off!" Wildrider snarled, throwing a fit while First Aid calmly unwrapped the gauze mesh and checked the area. There was some inflammation, yet the wound was healed enough for the medical staples to be removed at any time. 

'I had best wait until Ratchet can help me with that. Wildrider may have gained some trust, but he still dislikes me a great deal,' First Aid mused, rewrapping the healing area with a new bandage.

"It looks well! You'll be healed in no time!" the ambulance said brightly, rubbing Wildrider's shoulder after he released his leg. Wildrider grumbled something nasty under his breath at the other mech, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Whatever. So long as you quit touching me, I guess it's a good thing," he huffed, trying to keep up the tough-bot facade. First Aid was not going to know how he felt about anything-most of all if it was the kind of emotions Decepticons weren't meant to have.

'I still fragging owe him for saving me and I don't want to. Wish it would all go away,' he thought, slumping back against the corner of the couch, glaring at First Aid the entire time. First Aid smiled anyway, this time his expression tinged with worry.

"If you want to talk-"

"Nope! Don't want to talk about nothin'. Go away, will you? Otherwise I might have to bust you up," Wildrider growled, his collar vibrating in a dangerous way. It could sense that he was on the verge of attacking his master, the sedan tensed all over in anticipation.

First Aid nodded and stood up, the attempt at getting to know the vicious mech further not working quite yet. Wildrider was not ready to accept anyone into his strange life, keeping others at bay with nasty moods and a mouth that could unload harsh words like bullets from a gun. In time he might change his mind, but for now it was clear that Wildrider had no intentions of becoming better.

'I will try for him, though. I see there is a better side to him, it's just very hard to reach.'

Wildrider vented softly as he watched First Aid go, his initial plan to wow him with some awesome thank-you-for-saving-me gift gone in a flash. He had wrecked his chance to do anything nice and had scared away the red and white ambulance with his usual difficult attitude. Grumbling, he rested his head in his hands and glanced down at the floor, wondering what he could do anything right anymore.

***

Wildrider nodded off on the couch, unaware that Ratchet had been called in to deal with the removal of the staples. First Aid motioned the senior medic over to the couch where Wildrider was snoozing, his damaged leg stretched out so it didn't cause pain while he recharged. Ratchet huffed softly, waving at First Aid to get ahold of the Stunticon.

-Hold him nice and still for me. Can you control him?- Ratchet asked over a com link, waiting for his apprentice to make his move. 

-I can control him. He trusts me a little more than you might think- 

-Glad to hear it. I'd hate for you to have a problem bot after all your hard work-

First Aid sat down on the couch and gently gathered Wildrider into his arms, securing him in a gentle headlock while his other arm wrapped around his middle and arms so he couldn't punch. The red and black sedan made a low groan when he was moved, optics coming online slowly and without alarm.

"Morning already?" he mumbled, not at all the aggressive mech he had been earlier. First Aid knew the best time to catch him was when he was groggy and tired, feeling Wildrider shift in his arms. 

"It's not morning yet, Wildrider. Go back to recharge," First Aid soothed, grateful when the stubborn mech actually did as he was told for once and settled back into sleep. Ratchet raised an optic ridge in surprise, never having guessed that timid First Aid could somehow tame Wildrider.

"Impressive! I hate to say that I had no faith in you before, but I never expected such a good outcome," the senior medic chuckled, gruffly getting out the few tools he needed before unwrapping Wildrider's leg and examining it. "Good, everything healed well. Hold him steady while I get to work."

Ratchet got four of the thirteen staples out before there was even a shift from the recharging mech, the process relatively painless. Sleep always aided in numbing aches as well, both medics thankful that Wildrider was worn out. Having him wide awake and fussing would not have made things easy.

The eight staple hurt when it came out, the metal biting into somewhat inflamed protoflesh before it was tugged free. The sedan instantly woke with a shrill yelp, jerking away only to find he was trapped. Thrashing viciously, Wildrider started shouting to be released while also demanding to know what was going on in between strings of curse words. 

"Let go of me, fraggers! What's going on?! What the fragging Pit is this? Owww! Slagging medic, get offa me!" Wildrider bellowed, throwing the biggest fit he could manage while being firmly. There was no way he was getting out, but he wouldn't shut up about his maltreatment.

"Quit squirming! I almost have them all out," Ratchet snapped, swiftly removing the last two staples before releasing Wildrider's leg and standing up. "There. That wasn't so bad, you big wuss. I know it might have pinched here or there, but it sure wasn't worth all this racket! Not only that, but you upset First Aid."

In the process of struggling, Wildrider had gotten one arm free and punched First Aid as hard as he could in the faceplate. The action had gotten him electrocuted by the shock collar and subdued for a few moments, yet he had felt victorious during the moment. Revenge was always sweet until you realized it wasn't wrought on the correct Cybertronian.

"I meant to hit you, old spike sucker! Not him!"

"Have fun with your brat, First Aid," Ratchet said simply, picking up his tools before striding towards the apartment door. He would return to the med bay below to clean the tools and regroup. After working on difficult patients it was always nice to have a small break.

Wildrider felt the arms that had been holding him give in once Ratchet was gone, the smaller red and white medic gently pushing the Stunticon's frame out of his lap before rising. Wildrider watched him stand, gingerly touching at his swollen cheek. It looked like it hurt although First Aid kept quiet about the ache, the calm bot heading into the wash racks to get a cool wash cloth.

'Frag me, I didn't mean to do that...' Wildrider groaned to himself as he rolled over on the couch. He'd gone and messed something up again. Of course he couldn't have broken Ratchet, but instead lashed out at the one bot who actually liked him.

He pushed himself off the couch and followed First Aid into the wash racks, awkwardly standing at the door for a moment before gathering himself and walking inside. He spotted the other mech dabbing at the swollen area in front of the mirror, First Aid turning to smile at him regardless of what had just happened. It made the former Decepticon feel even worse, the trusting and entirely good nature of his rescuer so much stronger than Wildrider's own feelings.

"Is your leg feeling better?" First Aid asked as if he hadn't been punched in the faceplate a moment before. There was no malice in his question, the words genuine as could be.

"First Aid, I know this won't come out right 'cause I never 'pologized before but...uh...I'm sorry I bashed your face. It was meant for Ratchet."

"No harm done, Wildrider. It's simply a small area of swelling," First Aid assured, continuing to work on the reddened metal cheek regardless. "I will make a full recovery!"

Wildrider smiled at that, glad to at least know he hadn't ruined everything. "Heh, you're really a good bot. I didn't think there were mechs out there like you but I was wrong," Wildrider said, stepping into the wash rack and stopping only when he reached First Aid. The medic smiled again and put the mesh wash cloth back into the cool oil, careful with his work as always.

Everything stood still as Wildrider hesitantly reached out and touched the reddened part of his rescuer's faceplate when it was exposed, First Aid jerking slightly with nervousness before relaxing. He never expected the sedan to make a move, but it was a welcomed change compared to the other behaviors Wildrider insisted on continuing.

"....Can I kiss it better for you?"

Before he got an answer, Wildrider leaned in and pressed a shockingly gentle kiss to First Aid's somewhat parted lips, the gesture one of pure affection. First Aid went bright red with embarrassment, his metal cheeks heating quickly. Wildrider snickered at the sight, enjoying it quite a bit. First Aid was pretty damned cute...for a medic.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise. There's a lot I owe you for."

Wildrider beamed a roguish smile when he saw First Aid didn't have the words to answer just yet, anticipating the lunar cycle when he could make the bot quite vocal.


	12. Astrotrain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I finally updated this story!!!!!! I'm SO sorry it took me this long! :0 
> 
> I needed some Astrotrain and Inferno fluff again so here you go! Enjoy~

Inferno had no idea how much he actually liked Astrotrain, but the longer their spent together the fire truck couldn’t get enough of the triple changer’s docile yet amusing nature. Everyone had been so scared of the guy when the war had raged on and on, but now that he got to know him, Astrotrain was hardly mean or scary. He was simply the transport mech who had only twice tried to play leader. 

“You tried to make an army of trains? /Human/ trains?” Inferno asked incredulously after he heard the story of Astrotrain’s disastrous attempt at claiming some power for himself. Astrotrain had huffed in reply, wings flicking disdainfully. 

“Yeah, and they were gonna be a great army too if the humans hadn’t put pipes of water everywhere. The fleshies were idiots.”

Inferno had let it go, but did chuckle about the conversation later on when he was in the wash rack by himself. Astrotrain had clearly tried his best to fit into the Decepticon mould, yet was never fully accepted into their ranks as anything more than the transport vessel and taxi. And while that had likely been a horrible experience for the triple changer, it was very good for him now under the watch of the new bots in government. 

Ultra Magnus had accepted Inferno’s paperwork on his pet and soon Astrotrain would be tested for suitability to be released entirely from his collar and welcomed into society. The Decepticon brand would be removed and he would be free to do as he liked, released from Inferno’s care if he wished to be. It made the firetruck feel as though he had done the best he could for Astrotrain, praying the big mech was even more excited once he heard the news.

Inferno had returned home from a long day’s work, checking his mailbox to find official data pad download chips had been sent from Ultra Magnus’ office, the head of the justice department fully granting Astrotrain permission to attend a private interview and four tests for aggression, two of which would be staged. 

Feeling his spark skip a beat, Inferno grinned and hurried up the stairs of the apartment complex towards his home. Unlocking the door he didn’t spot Astrotrain right away, for a brief moment wondering where the mech had gone off to. He shut the door behind him and walked into the living room, feeling a brush of cool breeze coming from the balcony. 

Padding over Inferno could see that the glass doors were open, the curtains moving lazily to either side of the entrance to the balcony. Inferno peeked outside to find Astrotrain sitting on the bench there, his helm turned towards the fading sun. It was approaching evening, the last rays of warmth soon to give way to cool darkness.

“Mind if I join you?”

Astrotrain’s wings flared invitingly, the mech turning to regard his companion. “Yeah, sure. There’s a lot of room out here.”

Inferno joined the gray and purple mech on the bench, for a moment neither of them saying a word to one another. Inferno couldn’t stop smiling though when he heard the triple changer start up the lovely rumble-purring he always did when he was content, the sound warm and strangely comforting. When the firetruck heard it, he knew he was doing a good job making Astrotrain happy.

“How was work?” 

“Long and tiring as usual. Sadly I had to deal with Red Alert a little and as you can imagine that didn’t go over too well after everything,” Inferno sighed, rubbing the side of his head with a large hand. Astrotrain chuffed, leaning over to lightly punch his partner’s upper arm.

“He can’t say or do anything to you. You’re way better than,” he declared, wings rising on his back. “Tell me if he keeps bothering you.”

“And you’ll do what to him, Astro? Beat him up?” Inferno chuckled, grinning at the other mech. Astrotrain growled, hands balling into fists. 

“Don’t think I couldn’t! I might have been a Decepticon taxi but I can fight if I really need to.”

“You’re great,” the red and white mech laughed, wrapping an arm around Astrotrain’s chunky shoulders. 

“Yeah? I’m glad you think as highly of me as I do,” Astrotrain replied with a cocky grin, snickering when Inferno lightly roughed him up, the pair play-fighting for a moment under the dying light of day. “Did you arrest anyone interesting today?”

“Nah, just gave out a few parking tickets. Nothing too interesting happened except for one thing…”

“What?” Astrotrain asked, ruffling his armor cutely. 

“This came in the mail.”

Astrotrain reached out to take hold of a data pad Inferno offered, the former Decepticon reading over the document. The farther down he read the larger his optics became, the mech feeling his spark beat faster in his chest. Turning his helm in disbelief towards Inferno, he locked his partner in the most trusting, hopeful stare Inferno had ever experienced. 

“Is this for real?”

“It’s genuine government approval, Astro. You’ll be a free mech in no time!” 

The sound of the data pad clattering to the ground signaled Astrotrain was moving, the mech wrapping his arms around Inferno’s frame to give him a huge hug. Inferno wasted no time in returning the gesture, squeezing Astrotrain tightly to his chest. He could faintly feel the beating of the other mech’s spark even behind all the thick armor since they were pressed flush together, just like a human might be able to feel their partner’s heartbeat when entangled in a fierce embrace. 

Inferno felt wetness trickling down between his armor seams next, the mech surprised to pulled back slightly and find Astrotrain was crying silent tears of pure joy. A shaky hand moved to brush away the tears, Inferno’s rough thumb pads flicking away the washer fluid tears as they rolled down Astrotrain’s faceplate. 

“I told you that you were my equal a while ago and I’m going to make it happen for real. You deserve to be free just like anyone else,” Inferno murmured, pressing a kiss to Astrotrain’s wet cheek. “Ratchet even wrote a really nice letter to Ultra Magnus to add to your file, saying you were always a great patient and never caused a bit of trouble. Your interview is happening in two days, buddy!”

Astrotrain couldn’t say much, the mech so stunned and excited that he couldn’t formulate what he wanted or needed to say. For a while he simply clung to Inferno, hugging him while trying to convey how much it all meant to him. Finally, after about ten minutes of silence, the triple changer was able to tell his partner exactly what he needed to.

“I love you.”

***

After Astrotrain had said the three words, there had been more washer fluid rolling down each of their cheeks, Inferno taking Astrotrain’s hand as they rose from their seat on the bench. The pair gazed out over the expanse of New Iacon, the lights of the city buildings coming alive as night blanketed them. Stars twinkled above and Cybertron’s moon became steadily visible, the two watching over their new kingdom. On the balcony they felt like they could do anything, nothing barring them from their hopes and dreams. Not when they were together.

“Let’s go in and celebrate,” Astrotrain decided, tugging Inferno back towards the doors of the balcony. “We can get out some high grade, go in the hot tub together or do something mushy and romantic…”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Inferno laughed, the two hurrying into the apartment to revel in the good news. 

In a matter of thirty minutes the two had guzzled down two full bottles of potent high grade, whooping and laughing with joy over Astrotrain’s chance of freedom. After they had finished drinking, they stumbled into the wash rack and turned on the oil for a nice hot bath, the two large mechs settling happily into the tub. They were lucky to fit, the tub large enough to accommodate frame types like shuttles or tanks, which allowed for both of them to squeeze into the same space. 

Astrotrain had once again started up his purring, the mech absolutely thrilled to be with his companion. Nuzzling into Inferno’s neck, the triple changer made a trail of sweet kisses up to the red and white mech’s mouth, locking their lips together in a sloppy but well-meaning kiss. Inferno laughed, drunkenly catching Astrotrain’s chin to continue the gesture of affection.

“You’re perfect. How’d you win me over like this?”

“I’m good at stuff, that’s why!” Astrotrain yipped, armor puffing up to show how proud he was of his accomplishments. Inferno snickered, peppering the other bot’s face with kisses. 

“When we get out of here, want to celebrate the other way?”

“You mean you wanna frag?”

Inferno snort-laughed, getting a huge goofy grin out of Astrotrain.

“You don’t mess around, do you? Straight to the point!”

Astrotrain nodded in agreement, wings fluttering cutely as Inferno started to groom him, his optics shuttering with pleasure. Getting clean and preening was a huge part of being an aerial, and since Astrotrain was half shuttle, the gesture to help him clean off all the hard to reach areas was more than welcomed. 

Inferno worked a sponge full of sudsing cleanser into all of the triple changer’s back seams, scrubbing away any dirt or grime that had collected there. He paid careful attention to the bot’s wings, cautious not to damage the recently dislocated appendage. Springer had done a number on poor Astrotrain back in the park, but Astro had bounced back fast save for some residual aches and pains in his wing which naturally would take longer to fully heal due to all the complex wiring and sensors there. 

“How’s that feel?” he purred, nuzzling into Astrotrain’s warm nape. 

“So fragging good,” was the answer, Astrotrain’s wing pressing gratefully into Inferno’s palm as the firetruck continued to scrub him down.

Soon enough they switched jobs, Astrotrain more than happy to return the favor of washing off his partner. The mech was surprisingly good at finding all the spots that needed cleaning and grit removal, the grounder having picked up a lot of gravel on his day out at work. Astrotrain groomed his partner thoroughly, finishing only when he was sure Inferno was perfectly spotless and comfortable. 

They rose out of the tub and pulled the drain plug, oil droplets rolling down their now shiny armor. Astrotrain tossed Inferno a towel from the rack, the other mech grunting his thanks as they dried off. The scent of cleanser was strong yet quiet pleasant, steam clinging still to the mirror hanging over the sink. 

“Looking good, handsome,” Astrotrain said huskily, eyeing Inferno’s frame as the other bot toweled off. Inferno’s azure optics twinkled with mischief, putting on a little show for his lover as he finished drying his thighs and hips. 

“Same to you, Astro. You’re the only fire I don’t want to put out,” he snickered, the horrible pickup line making them both laugh. “So, you want to be the top tonight?”

“Frag, yes!”

“Then you better catch me~”

Inferno bolted from the wash rack to make a fun little game of tag for them, Astrotrain readily giving chase. Lost in the joy of loving another soul, Astrotrain’s collar at last became weightless.


	13. Motormaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much a transitional chapter for Motormaster and Silverbolt. I promise it will get more interesting with the next chapter of Motormaster's story!

Motormaster kept to the shadows as he escaped the city, moving through the lesser-used roads and alleys until he came to the main gates of New Iacon. They were open and unguarded now that the war was over and travel was encouraged, the truck transforming and speeding off into the relatively barren expanse between New Iacon and its neighbor city, New Polyhex. 

As he fled from the city of his capture, Motormaster hated to admit he couldn’t get Silverbolt out of his mind. The semi truck snarled curses at himself for using any energy to ponder about what motive the Aerialbot had for letting him go, pushing his alt mode to go faster still. He needed to get away, to create as much distance as he could between his enemies until he could regroup and fight back. 

Right now he was far too confused to be much of a threat.

Motormaster was also lost since all of his gestalt mates were captured and separated. Wildrider was gone, Drag Strip and Breakdown had been taken long before, and Dead End had vanished from all forms of communication after he had been lost in a flurry of smoke bombs the Autobots had thrown at them. Motormaster had assumed he was captured, yet his com line had remained weirdly online considering all captured Decepticons were not allowed to keep such communication open.

‘Maybe I can find him, even if he’s useless,’ Motormaster thought to himself, feeling a tiny flicker of hope. Dead End might be a worthless pessimist at times and even though the gestalt as a whole had never gotten along, Motormaster needed to find someone he was used to. Someone who reminded him that their cause wasn’t entirely lost. 

***

Motormaster traveled through the night so that he arrived at Polyhex in the morning, passing through the gate there without any harassment or trouble. He checked all his com lines to see which of them were still open, his tank sinking when he found only four of hundreds were still green. Dead End’s line was red, signaling it was closed off to his use. There were hardly any free Decepticons left, that much was certain.

‘Autobot scum,’ Motormaster silently swore, armor bristling even as he drove into the city and tried to find a place to transform in secret. If he did so in public everyone would see his glaring Decepticon brand. 

Motormaster pulled off into a side street that didn’t appear to be busy, the mech clawing into his brand in hopes to either rip the entire thing out or to disfigure it enough that no one would question him. Snarling as he tore at himself, Motormaster was soon bleeding, his claws having ripped through the purple Decepticon figure. Part of him would miss it, but there was also a tiny voice that said he was free not only from Autobots, but from his days as Megatron’s damaged brute. 

Menasor had never made Megatron happy because the team that made him was extremely dysfunctional. Motormaster had attempted to keep everyone in line with fear and rage, but had scarred Breakdown heavily and made Dead End’s uncaring attitude worse. Not to mention Wildrider was uncontrollable on a good day and Drag Strip entirely obsessed with winning rather than working as a team. The Stunticons had been doomed from the beginning and Motormaster had some resentment about how his life had worked out. 

The hulking semi truck shook himself as if to dislodge the memories he disliked, growling quietly under his breath. It was time to find somewhere safe to stay for the night. He would recharge in Polyhex for a short time, intending to move far beyond it and further prevent anyone from recognizing him. There was no way in hell he was going to be captured again and forced into being a pet. 

Motormaster walked out of the side street, holding his helm high. The last thing he wanted to do was act suspicious, the brute choosing to portray confidence and strength rather than anxiety. It had done him well in the past. 

Night began to fall as Motormaster searched for some cheap housing, the credits that Silverbolt had given him generous but not enough to wastefully spend. He needed to think carefully about what he used them on, the truck finally finding himself a small inn that only cost 50 credits for the night. Once he had locked himself into the tiny room, the semi truck laid down in the berth and stared at the ceiling, allowing his mind to wander. 

Silverbolt. His most hated enemy had freed him, the weight of the collar gone from his neck. Motormaster rubbed the area where it had once been, swallowing dryly. He had no idea what had possessed the Autobot to release him, curling a lip at the idea. Silverbolt was a damned fool. If things had been reversed, Motormaster would never have done the same. 

Maybe that was why he had done so well as a Decepticon- because there was an urge in him to hurt others. Silverbolt didn’t have that same rage or bitterness to drive his choices, instead relying on his compassion and morality. It confused the truck, the black and purple mech unable to understand why he was now roaming about with no collar or master.

His thoughts still lingered on the Aerialbot as he drifted off to recharge, soon passed out in a snoring heap on the small berth. Tomorrow he would head off and leave all the madness behind him. Maybe once he had a secure base he would go after his teammates to track them down and liberate them. Or perhaps he would stick to himself for the rest of his days, forgetting about the past and the mechs he had known. 

Either way, those kinds of thoughts would have to wait for the morning.

***

“Where’s the Decepticon?” Slingshot asked the next morning as he entered the living room of their apartment, not having seen Motormaster going about his usual surly business. Silverbolt sighed, not sure how he wanted to approach the truth. Slingshot would be furious, along with a few of the others. But Silverbolt knew in his spark he had done the right thing, confident in his choice. 

“I set him free.”

“You WHAT?” 

“It is wrong to keep another mech as a pet, Slingshot. We tried to give him a good life here, but he was so miserable he began to starve himself and I couldn’t allow that to happen. I released him and he is gone.”

Slingshot looked dumbfounded, so shocked he was at a loss for words. But once he recovered enough to talk, he let Silverbolt have it. He threw his hands into the air, wings quivering with barely contained fury. 

“You’re serious!? You let a fragging psychopath murderer off his chains and let him enter society?! Slverbolt, you just endangered everyone you love! He could go on a rampage and come storming in here trying to get revenge!” Slingshot shouted, drawing the attention of the other Aerialbots. 

“Hey, what’s with all the yelling this early? I was trying to sleep…” Air Raid growled, grumpily peering out of his berth room to give the arguing pair a nasty look. Slingshot curled his lip, pointing accusingly at Silverbolt. 

“He let Motormaster go! Like, took-his-collar-off-and-everything kind of free!”

“No way. Are you crazy?!” 

The two most aggressive of the Aerialbots ganged up on their leader, causing quite a ruckus. Silverbolt simply took the abuse, waiting for his gestalt mates to tire themselves out and calm down. Fireflight fled from the window seat he had been reading in before, scurrying into his room and locking the door. Skydive was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding in his room as well after hearing the noise outside. 

“Are you two finished?” Silverbolt asked calmly once his rowdy gestalt mates had to take a few breaths after all their yelling. “I did what I did because it was right. Motormaster had the chance to kill me, yet he chose to leave and seek his freedom. He isn’t completely vile.”

“Oh sure, says the guy who’s crazy. Of course the deranged semi truck seems perfectly fine to let loose on the world!” Air Raid snapped, giving his leader a stern look. “Silverbolt, if he kills /anyone/ we’re all going to get in trouble.”

“He won’t.”

“How can you say that? You have no idea what’s going through that brute’s processor!” Air Raid shot back, Slingshot nodding in agreement. Silverbolt ignored their concern, feeling in his spark that all would be well.

“His anger stems from bitterness and hurt. The mech is simply a tortured soul. Physical freedom is a small mercy,” the jet replied, turning his back on the others as he walked into the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. “Would either of you like something to eat?”

Air Raid and Slingshot stared in disbelief at one another, wondering if this was reality or a very strange dream. 

***

Motormaster woke feeling restless and uncomfortable. Something wasn’t right and he couldn’t put his finger on it. Huffing and puffing as he rolled out of the berth, the truck stretched out and cracked his stiff joints. It was time for another long drive, the mech not at all excited for the coming journey. He didn’t fully know where his destination was, no longer having a sense of where he belonged or where ‘home’ was located. 

Did he go back to the place he was born? Drive into Kaon’s lowest sector and try to pretend none of the war had happened? Did he go to Praxus, the hangar he and the other Stunticons had been based out of for thousands of years? Did he return to Silverbolt’s apartment where he had been housed for a few weeks? Motormaster had no idea, lost in more ways than one. 

Standing silently in the middle of his room, the mech turned to look at himself in the mirror, a tired lavender faceplate staring back at him. Rubbing one of his cheeks, the truck growled. He looked older and pale, a ghost of what he had once been. Not sure if it was lack of food or something else, Motormaster took out one of the cubes Silverbolt had given him before he left, playing with it for a few moments before he drank it. 

Motormaster suddenly snarled at the empty energon cube after another moment of silence, crushing it in his flurry of rage and hurling the empty container across the room. It hit the far wall and fell to the floor with a muffled thump, the semi truck charging out the door. He was sick of thinking and feeling. It was time for what he was good at; action. The brute walked out into the street, transformed, picked a direction, and drove like hell.


	14. Wildrider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wildrider wants to mess around and First Aid isn't sure he wants to get involved.

Wildrider had no idea what he was doing when it came to courting or trying to attract a mate. He had fragged around a lot with his gestalt mates, sure, but nothing was serious or really cared about. First Aid…well, he didn’t want to hurt the mech or scare him away. He actually mattered unlike his gestalt. They had never been that much fun, anyway.

The black and red Stunticon had to wait for First Aid to come back home from work, pacing around the apartment completely bored. What was he supposed to do? Nothing was interesting or worth breaking, First Aid keeping his living space clean and tidy. Huffing with annoyance, Wildrider went to sit down on the couch and turn on the holo screen. Maybe there was something to watch?

Nothing, as usual. Wildrider groaned loudly, keeling over onto the couch and nearly sliding off of it in his overly dramatic display. First Aid should take the day off or something. There couldn’t possibly be that many bots who needed medic stuff done, right? Wildrider groaned again and covered his faceplate with his arm. 

Hopefully the day would go by quickly and no one would need emergency stuff done during the night. That was the best Wildrider could hope for, the mech absentmindedly picking at some paint that was peeling off his lower arm. The days First Aid was on shift were really hard for him to deal with. After all, who enjoyed being all alone?

***

First Aid was quite busy, rushing around the med bay for hours. Two Seekers came in with damaged wings, a truck had a prolapsed fuel tank, and Blitzwing was dragged in for an extremely difficult tune-up since the brute was riled up and agitated. Once the truck was in a recovery cell for the night and Blitzwing taken home, Aid was able to take a deep vent and lean back against one of the medical cabinets.

“I’ll clean up the last of the mess with the interns, Aid. Go check on your brat,” Ratchet said, gesturing with his helm towards the stairs that led up to the medic’s apartment above the med bay. 

“He’s not a brat, Ratchet. He’s actually quite sweet when he gets rid of all his energy,” First Aid insisted, getting a skeptical look from the older bot. 

“He never gets worn out. I’m not buying it,” he grumbled, waving First Aid away. “Go see him, though. He’ll need you around to stay out of trouble.”

First Aid was glad to go even if he disagreed with Ratchet’s comment, not feeling that Wildrider was some kind of horrible monster ready to attack at any moment. He was full of energy, not all of it good, but he didn’t give First Aid a feeling of terror or anger when they were close. Wildrider simply needed a companion, someone to give him attention and honestly some much deserved love. 

A mech like Wildrider didn’t know what it was like to have someone care about him or wonder if he was doing alright. Being ignored had likely caused a lot of his behavioral troubles, the mech written off as crazy and then pushed to the sidelines. Him being tossed onto death row so swiftly by Prowl was a perfect example of how he was constantly abused and hated for being a product of neglect and troubles outside of his control. 

First Aid didn’t think Wildrider was a bad mech.

Grabbing some energon cubes, First Aid hurried up the stairs to his apartment and unlocked the door, glad Ratchet wouldn’t be going back to his quarters just yet. Sometimes the younger bot worried the grumpy mech could hear through the walls and would get annoyed if he and Wildrider talked too much.

“Wildrider?” he called, holding up the energon cubes. “Sorry I’m bringing dinner so late! I was swamped at work today-uuufff!”

First Aid was tackled in a hug, the medic dropping the cubes so he could return the gesture. He was surprised by Wildrider’s forwardness, but it was a good sign. 

“Heya, shrimp! Glad you came back. I was starting to wonder if you dumped me up here!”

“I would never do that to you,” First Aid assured, patting Wildirder’s back. “Let’s have our energon and then get to bed. It’s late!”

“But you’ve been gone all day! I’m bored and want to do something!” Wildrider whined, lightly batting at First Aid’s helm before he let go of the hug. “Can’t we spar or mess around? I’ve been stuck inside napping already.”

“I don’t believe in fighting, Wildrider. I’m a pacifist,” First Aid replied with a tiny laugh when he saw Wildrider’s faceplate. His expressions were always amusing, the red and white mech picking up the cubes he had dropped and heading over to the dinner table. “How about we talk? Tell me a story about yourself.”

“That’s not interesting, though! I don’t like talking, I like action!” Wildrider announced, pacing around a few more times, armor fluffed up to signal he was excited. “Can you at least find me someone who would like to spar? I seriously can’t be cooped up inside all the time, pal.”

“I’ll look into something for you,” First Aid promised, glad when he coaxed Wildrider over to the table for their evening meal. It was late, but hopefully with some energon in his tank the red and black sedan would simmer down.

Wildrider guzzled down his energon cube and then looked curiously at the medic. He didn’t understand why he liked the bot so much. Sure, the guy had saved his life and all, but anyone could do that and Wildrider wouldn’t be head over heels for them. But First Aid seemed special somehow.

“You know what? Let’s go to the berth,” he declared once First Aid finished his meal, the medic cocking his head slightly to the side in curiosity. 

“That sounds nice. I’m quite tired,” he admitted, starting to discuss how Blitzwing had been a problem and how the poor truck with his prolapsed fuel tank was going to have a very slow recovery. Wildrider didn’t care a bit, but he let Aid talk as they made their way into the berthroom. 

Wildrider watched as First Aid got ready for bed, settling into the berth and making room for his pet. The Stunticon scratched at his collar, his name and medical tag jingling quietly. He padded closer to the berth, suddenly unsure if he should be getting so close. But he could trust First Aid, couldn’t he? The medic hadn’t let him down yet.

“If you don’t feel comfortable-“

“No, I do! Shut up about me being comfortable and stuff,” Wildrider snapped, awkwardly getting into the berth and settling himself there. He could smell First Aid’s clean scent mixed with sterile cleanser from the med bay. It was pleasant, the sterile smell fading away as the red and white mech nestled into his berth covers. 

He was rough around the edges, but Wildrider wasn’t currently trying to be mean. He had trouble communicating in a way that was acceptable, sighing when he saw First Aid was ignoring his little outburst and closing in on going to recharge. 

“Hey, don’t go to bed yet! We…we can do stuff!” Wildrider yipped, pouncing on First Aid to wake him. The medic ‘ufff-ed’ softly and stared at Wildirder while the sedan grinned playfully back. “Wanna play wrestle? I used to do that all the time with Dead End.”

“No, no, I’d much rather recharge,” First Aid said honestly, reaching up to pat Wildrider’s helm. “Come here, we can rest together.”

First Aid pulled Wildrider down against him, feeling bold. He could do this. Wildrider wasn’t going to hurt him, the medic fully trusting his rescued pet. Trying not to blush at the proximity they had with one another, Aid gently began to rub Wildrider’s side and back, hoping to soothe the mech and show that resting was just as nice as wrestling.

“C’mon, this isn’t fun…” Wildrider grumbled, although he did enjoy the petting after a few moments. “When are we going to mess around and break some stuff together, huh?”

“Wildrider, hush now,” First Aid chuckled, moving his hand so he could pat the sedan on his helm. “We can talk tomorrow morning, okay? I don’t have to work until second shift.”

Wildrider pouted, but before he knew it he was snuggled right up against First Aid’s side, contentedly letting the medic pet him. First Aid was kind, his hands slow and steady as they rubbed all over Wildrider’s frame. The sedan even began to purr in his engine when Aid massaged the nape of his neck, calming the red and black mech right down.

Eventually First Aid’s petting slowed and then came to a stop, Wildrider only half awake as he nestled his faceplate into the medic’s warm neck. He knew the other bot was asleep, his venting steady and even. Chuffing softly, Wildrider decided he could get a little more rest, if only to wake up at the same time as First Aid did. 

Tomorrow would be more interesting, the Stunticon already planning what he wanted to do. Maybe he could mess around with the medic and show him what having a good time was all about. Deciding that would be his goal, Wildrider slipped into recharge and didn’t wake until the next morning. 

***

Wildrider woke up before First Aid did, shifting around under the covers as he tried to untangle himself from First Aid’s arms. The medic must have rolled over during the night and wrapped Wildrider up in a hug. The sedan certainly didn’t mind the attention, but now that he wanted to get up it was a little annoying. 

“Pssst! Hey! Hey, wake up! It’s tomorrow so now you gotta do stuff with me!” Wildrider whispered loudly into First Aid’s audio receptor as he shook the medic’s shoulder. “Let’s play wrestle or…or we could frag!”

“Wildrider?” First Aid yipped, waking suddenly to hear the words ‘or frag’ being spoken. He pushed the red and black sedan off of him, giving the mech a confused and tired look. “What’s all this about interfacing?”

“I was wondering if you’d want to do it with me! Y’know, all that ‘put-my-thing-in-your-thing’ stuff!” Wildrider purred into First Aid’s neck before rolling over and giving his hips a few bucks. “I’m really good at it! Got lots of stamina and power.”

First Aid’s faceplate had never blushed so much, the medic covering his cheeks with his hands. He stammered, unable to formulate words at the Stunticon’s blatant offer. No one had ever asked anything so intimate like that before! Besides, First Aid had never really be that interested in interfacing after the first couple of times he had tried it. 

“Wildrider! What are you talking about?” he gasped, the cocky grin on the Stunticon’s faceplate falling when he saw the reaction was not a good one. 

“I…uh…I thought it might be fun! You and me…us….doing it,” Wildrider said simply, although his cheerful attitude was vanishing quickly as he sunk down in the berth. He felt defeated, rejected, and once again very bored. 

“I barely know you yet! We should talk first and fully understand each other!” First Aid said, hoping he could convince Wildrider to wait and behave himself. The mech seemed quite subdued now, optics not meeting First Aid’s faceplate as he began to absentmindedly pick at a blanket corner. 

“Nah, it’s fine. Can someone come over then? I need to spar and get some energy out,” he huffed, First Aid nodding. 

“I’ll call someone right away!” he squeaked, scrambling out of the berth to make a call or two. Wildrider remained in the blankets feeling like a fool and wondering why on Cybertron he felt so disappointed. 

***

“First Aid, you seem upset,” Ratchet said upon seeing the younger medic come trotting down the stairs, a hint of blush still on his faceplate. “Is it Wildrider?”

“He’s…fully of energy, so I’m going to call someone to bring their pet and let them have some fun together,” First Aid said, unsure if he should elaborate. Ratchet’s optics narrowed.

“He did something to you, didn’t he?”

“No, he’s very good to me. A little…too good. He…he asked to frag and I got flustered and ran off,” First Aid admitted, sheltering his faceplate behind his hands once again. “I’m calling Ironhide so he can bring Blitzwing back. They might wrestle like Wildrider also mentioned.”

“Aid, just ignore it. He’s riled up because he’s been stuck in your apartment all day. Having someone come see him will keep him off your case. But if I might make a suggestion, I believe Blitzwing will kill him. Pick a smaller Decepticon that won’t crush him the second they get off their leashes.”

First Aid nodded feverishly, searching his contacts for someone who would be able to handle Wildrider while also being energetic enough to spar as his companion wanted. Once he found a good match, he commed Bluestreak and invited him and his pet over for dinner. Hoping it would be enough to interest Wildrider, he dove right into his work for the day and watched the hours pass sluggishly by.


	15. Astrotrain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally found a chance to update!!! Sorry for the long delays, I feel awful for making everyone wait! 
> 
> Also, I've at last made a Tumblr! Come chat with me at https://demonsdaughtertf.tumblr.com and see some of the art I'm posting as well as some other original stuff! Of course I'm also reblogging other more talent peoples stuff, so come give them some compliments as well!!!

Today was the day. Astrotrain was nervous, thick shuttle wings pressing close to his frame as he walked alongside Inferno towards the Chief of Justice building. He was going to ask for his freedom and prove to Ultra Magnus that he wasn’t a threat. He had made it this far, hoping that all the letters of recommendation would further support the idea that he didn’t need to remain in a collar. 

If things went as they should, once he left the building he would be a free mech.

“Remember what I told you,” Inferno said gently, ushering Astrotrain into the huge building. Their pedes across the marble floors made quite loud clicks as they walked, the triple changer even more intimidated when he saw the high ceilings and the cleanliness of the building. 

“What if I forget?” Astrotrain asked, optics wide with horror. What if he blanked out everything Inferno had taught him about being polite and non-threatening?

“You won’t forget, Astro. Now go in there and show him what a great bot you are! Don’t worry about a thing, he might act stern but he’s pretty harmless.”

Inferno was not allowed to enter the room with his ‘pet’ as that could possibly influence the former Decepticon’s behavior. Ultra Magnus instead wanted to sit down and chat with the bots who wanted freedom and were willing to prove they were no longer a danger to society. Astrotrain was terrified out of his wits, but he took a deep invent and strode over to the office door. He was about to open it but realized he needed to knock first, doing so right away. 

“Come in,” came a voice from within the office, Astrotrain’s wings shooting up on his back to signal he was on high alert. He was entirely out of his element, but he hoped it wouldn’t show too badly while he was doing his interview. 

He slowly opened the door and slipped inside, grateful that he didn’t have to duck down when entering the room. Some doorways weren’t tall enough for shuttle types, but Ultra Magnus was a large mech himself so it made sense that his office fit him appropriately. Astrotrain almost forgot to breathe when he saw the imposing form of Ultra Magnus sitting at his desk, hands clasped together as he regarded the gray and purple triple changer. 

“Er…hi!” Astrotrain blurted out, awkwardly waving at the Chief of Justice as he hurried over to take the open seat. “Can I sit here?”

“The correct sequence of words would be ‘May I sit here’ and my answer is yes, you may,” Ultra Magnus said, ready to correct any and all grammatical errors. He had grown quite proficient at it during his travels with Rodimus, although he doubted the mech had truly taken any of what he had taught him to heart. 

Astrotrain blanched, stressed out more than ever. He wasn’t doing it right already! His hands gripped the arms of the chair in a death hold, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. Even so he tried to put on a brave smile, looking Ultra Magnus in the optics before he extended one of his stiff hands. 

“I’m Astrotrain. Nice to meet you, sir,” he said, remembering that line at least from everything Inferno had taught him. They had made an entire script, but the triple changer had already ruined some of it from his rather poor entrance.

“It is nice to meet you as well, Astrotrain. Now, I believe you are here today for the removal of your collar and acceptance into society as a free mech? I read through the letters of recommendation I have in your file and many spoke fondly of you.”

Astrotrain nodded, not trusting his voice for a moment. Stress was an amazingly powerful thing. “I uh…yeah, I…I’m here for all that! Inferno got the process started and I’m here trying not to mess up or say anything stupid.”

The triple changer sat there for a moment, wondering what he was thinking telling Ultra Magnus that. It wasn’t in the script and it was probably not going to help his case. The semi truck would probably see him as too unintelligent to be a citizen of Cybertron and deny his request now. All of Inferno’s hard work and the time it took for the others to write the recommendation letters…

Ultra Magnus watched Astrotrain struggle to figure out what he was supposed to do, the triple changer awkward and harmless as could be. The Chief of Justice said nothing though, watching and waiting to see how the Decepticon would handle himself once things didn’t go according to his plan. Obviously he and Inferno had worked on a script of some kind together and now it was all falling apart.

“I just want to be able to have my collar off and do things for Inferno,” Astrotrain finally said, catching Ultra Magnus partially off guard with the statement. “I really like him and it would be nice if we could go to town and stuff together without me being dragged on a leash. Besides all that, we love each other and it’s a lot harder for me to love him when I’m still his pet, you know?”

Astrotrain meant what he said, honest and true with every word. He just wanted things to be normal, the collar around his neck feeling heavier than it normally did. What was so wrong about wanting to be free so he could be with his best friend? Inferno was his life and he had no intention of rampaging through the streets if he was given legal clearance. 

“I will consider what you’ve told me today,” Ultra Magnus said stiffly, the mech watching as Astrotrain’s wings drooped. He assumed he was being rejected, all the hard work fading before him due to his choice of words. “But know that I have more paperwork to review and a jury to present your case to.”

Astrotrain shook his head, letting out a deep sigh. 

“It’s okay, I know I didn’t do a good job with this whole interview thing. Don’t waste their time, I already know I didn’t pass.”

Everything had happened so fast, Astrotrain feeling like he had singlehandedly destroyed his chances to be happy all because his big mouth had decided to chatter away to fragging ULTRA MAGNUS, the one mech who had the authority to release him from his servitude. 

The semi truck didn’t stop Astrotrain as the mech rose from his seat and made his way to the office door, opening it and slipping outside. The Chief of Justice spotted Inferno close by waiting for his companion to come out, his faceplate falling when he clearly caught sight of Astrotrain’s expression. Putting down his data pad of notes on the triple changer, Ultra Magnus let out a heavy sigh of his own. He hadn’t wanted to give Astrotrain any false hopes, but he had a feeling he could work something out for the gray and purple mech.

Meanwhile, outside the office Inferno rushed over to gather Astrotrain up in his arms, the fire truck worried his lover wasn’t doing so well. “How did it go, Astrotrain?”

“Terrible. He thinks I’m dumb and I don’t think I have a chance, Inferno. I could see the look in his optics and he told me he was going to bring my interview up with some panel of judges. He decided I wasn’t going to be free the second I opened my big mouth.”

“You don’t know that! Things might change, Astro. Just keep your chin up!” Inferno replied, trying not to let his companion slide into a depression from the stressful experience. Astrotrain simply sighed, shrugging his bulky shoulders. 

“It’s hard to do that, you know. I have a heavy chin.”

He gave Inferno a tiny smile and was relieved when he felt his partner give him a big hug, clinging to him for support as he shuttered his optics. The world stopped for a moment as they stood in the middle of the Justice Department, not aware that Ultra Magnus had cracked his door open ever so slightly to regard the pair. Now he had all the information he needed to make a decision, a ghost of a smile on his lips that was as fleeting and so fast it was almost a question of whether or not it had appeared at all. 

***

“Do you want to pick up something to eat? We can get your favorite turbo-beef stew at the pub if you want,” Inferno offered, trying to cheer Astrotrain up after his trip to the interview. The triple changer didn’t seem to register he had been asked a question for a second or two, shaking himself and finally turning his gaze to Inferno. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Do you want your favorite food, you big lug?” Inferno laughed softly, punching the other mech in the upper arm. “You need something to make you feel better.”

“I’d rather just go home and watch a movie with you. Or curl up together on the berth. I just want something to make me feel like I’m not a loser,” he replied, hoping Inferno would be willing to have a cozy night in. The firetruck didn’t seem to mind the idea at all, a bright smile spreading across his lips. 

“Sure, that sound like a lot of fun! We can just have a cube and keep things simple.”

The pair soon found themselves back in the warmth and comfort of their apartment, neither one feeling all that hungry as they made their way to the berth. Inferno clambered into the mesh blankets first, followed closely by Astrotrain. The triple changer snuggled right in beside him, shuttering his optics. He wanted to have the collar off, to be free and allowed to be a part of the normal world. 

That and he had hoped maybe someday if he was given his freedom that they could have sparklings born as citizens, Sire and Carried by two mechs of legal rights. 

“Astrotrain, even if it doesn’t work out, I still love you to pieces and I’ll never make you wear the collar inside,” Inferno murmured, using his thumb print to unlock the scanner bar on the collar. The piece of metal fell away with a beep, the gray and purple mech shaking out his armor. 

“I know, but it only feels worse when we go out and I have to wear it again,” he sighed, Inferno starting to massage the mech’s shoulders. 

“We still don’t know what Ultra Magnus has decided, so don’t lose hope just yet. We’ll get a letter in the mail about it in a week or two. Until then, we wait.”

“I’m sick of waiting,” Astrotrain sighed, grumbling quietly as Inferno squeezed him in a hug. “Waiting is the worst.”

“I know, but you can do it! I have a feeling it wasn’t as bad as you thought. You’re just too hard on yourself sometimes, Astro,” Inferno said, sending his companion a warm and loving smile. Astrotrain huffed, resting his head in Inferno’s lap. 

“I’m used to everyone putting me down, now I can’t help myself sometimes.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Inferno insisted, pressing a kiss to Astrotrain’s forehead. “At least know that I love you and would never put you down. You deserve to be happy.”

Astrotrain smiled at that, although his expression wasn’t exactly happy. He just wanted to forget about the day and what had happened. Stretching out to nibble along Inferno’s jawline and chin, the triple changer made a low rumble of interest. 

“Can you help me forget?” he asked, Inferno catching his meaning almost instantly.

“I think I can do that for you, big guy…”

The next thing he knew, Astrotrain found himself on his back with the firetruck draped over him, his legs on either side of the red and white mech’s frame. He growled softly, feeling his mate curl over him and grind their arrays together. His thighs spread instinctively, ready for a good mating. 

“How do you want it, Astro?”

“I want it passionate and slow. I don’t need a rut or anything too wild tonight, just something to remind me that even if I still have to wear a collar, I know I’m free when I’m with you.”

“Open up and I’ll make sure you never have to worry about a thing. I’ll take good care of you.”

Astrotrain didn’t wait, opening his valve panel on command and sighing deeply when cooler air touched the swollen area of protoflesh. He heard but didn’t see Inferno’s panel opening, the warmth and stiffness of the spike soon pressed between them. The triple changer nipped and mouthed at his lover’s face, a tiny gasp escaping when Inferno lovingly returned the gentle bites but on his throat. A rush of warmth flooded into his array and his valve throbbed with need, the outer folds slick with lubricant that was beginning to ooze out. 

Inferno shifted until his spike was in a better position, the breeding organ rubbing in between slicked valve folds. Astrotrain arched into the sensation, the underside of Inferno’s length pressing against his outer nub, the extremely sensitive part of his frame responding nicely to the stimulation. Both mechs made low sounds of longing, mouthing and kissing at each other’s lips.

“Do it…” Astrotrain whined, exposing more of his throat to the other mech. Inferno lightly bit down on the triple changer’s neck, holding him steady.

Inferno shifted his hips and mounted with a few smooth thrusts, pushing his spike deeper each time until his groin was flush to Astrotrain’s panel. Astrotrain was making tiny little sounds of need, Inferno smiling warmly at the other bot. He was so perfect, so innocent and gentle. For a Decepticon that had been bred for war and trained to kill, the mech was hardly vicious at all. 

‘He should have been on our side. He deserves the world,’ Inferno thought, draping himself across Astrotrain’s front and wrapping him up in a tight hug. Astrotrain hugged him right back, nuzzling feverishly at his mate’s cheeks. 

“Love you so much, big guy,” the firetruck murmured, starting up a steady but deep pace. This was lovemaking, not rutting. 

Astrotrain’s tiny love sounds were muffled in a deep kiss, the mech’s thighs parting further to allow his companion better access. It was all a show of trust and vulnerability, Astrotrain offering every part of himself to Inferno. He groaned into his companion’s mouth as he felt the firetruck’s girthy spike rub across every inner node and press so deep the sharp tip nearly reached his gel wall. 

Inferno picked up the pace only slightly as the two tangled together, Astrotrain moving into the thrusts to help the red and white mech go deeper. Inferno broke the kiss, his spike twitching with desire when he began to hear the sweet little mewls Astrotrain was making. Primus, what a gorgeous sound! Not to mention the triple changer’s faceplate was a picture of pure bliss, his optics half-shuddered and his mouth partially open so he could pant and whimper. 

“Love you more,” Astrotrain mumbled, letting Inferno have full control. “This…this is making me forget about today.”

“Good,” Inferno rumbled, giving a deeper thrust and smiling when he was rewarded with a gasp. “I was hoping it would hold your attention.”

The wet sounds of spike and valve moving together punctuated their lovemaking as Astrotrain’s slit rippled greedily around the invading organ. His frame wanted it to go deeper, Inferno obliging readily. Soon the pace picked up, Inferno pummeling into his mate as he chased his overload. They had had enough of slow and gentle. Now it was time for the grand finale. 

“Hnnngggggghhh, frag….fragfragfrag…I’m close!” Inferno choked out, barely remembering to breathe as he went after his pleasure. Astrotrain was grunting and huffing, also unable to make more coherent sounds as he was pounded, their frames clanging as they moved together. 

Inferno practically melted inside when he heard the sweetest and tiniest little ‘chirrip’ sound come from his mate, losing his control completely and finishing up. He jammed himself deep into his partner, unaware that his spike tip had plunged through the triple changer’s gel wall. Astrotrain’s optics opened wide at the pinch and he snarl-yelped, nipping hard at Inferno’s chin. 

Inferno hissed back, swift to capture Astrotrain’s throat in his jaws while he unloaded transfluid into the waiting gestation chamber, the knot at the base of his spike inflating rapidly to lock them together. Astrotrain growled and whined at the sensation of being stretched so much, the knot tugging against his valve rim while the spike pulsed and twitched. He felt the rush of warmth as fluid was pumped into the once empty chamber, Inferno’s donation of seed plentiful.

Only once the most intense part of the overload was finished did Inferno release his mate’s neck, licking the spots where his dentas had bitten in. Astrotrain was behaving now, laying nice and still as his companion’s breeding organ continued to dribble transfluid into his chamber. He felt the warmth of it inside, the heavy yet not uncomfortable sensation making the triple changer growl quietly. 

“Inferno…we messed up,” he grunted, Inferno still licking and nuzzling him. 

Only once the haze of overload had passed did Inferno realize his spike tip felt different, lodged inside the other mech’s gel wall. His faceplate blanched, horrified that he had lose control and allowed himself to do such a thing without Astrotrain’s permission first. 

“We can fix it! I’ll bring you to a medic tomorrow morning and we’ll have it drained if you want! Or-”

“We’re not having it drained,” Astrotrain huffed, giving his mate a glower. “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. I’ll either kindle or it’ll all be absorbed back into my frame. We’ll just have to see. I mean, I don’t think I’m ready for sparklings but if it happens, we’ll figure it out ‘cause they’ll be ours.”

Inferno cupped Astrotrain’s faceplate and simply held him close, not another word spoken. How had he become so lucky to be with a mech like him? Even a huge mistake like the one he had just made was easily forgiven, the triple changer sweetly nuzzling into his faceplate while his energy field flooded with affection. 

“You’re right…we’ll figure it all out,” he replied, feeling that if any couple were to sort out a mistake in the berthroom, it would be them.


	16. Motormaster

Something was drawing him back. Motormaster had no idea what it was, but he felt a pull and tug at his spark to turn around and face one of his many demons. The semi truck barreled along down empty and cracked roads, tires kicking up stones and grit as he charged forward in the direction he had chosen. If he made good time, he’d be there by the morning. 

No recharge, no rest. He had a score to settle. 

****

Silverbolt and the rest of his gestalt felt slightly empty once Motormaster was gone. They behaved in the same way as they always had and the morning went about as usual, but there was a sense that something was missing. Slingshot refused to say anything, but Fireflight commented that it was ‘very strange’ not having the hulking form of Motormaster around. The black semi truck had never been happy or interested in being near, but his presence was commanding and the absence of it was heavily noticed. 

“We don’t need someone like that making this place toxic,” Slingshot had retorted, storming off to his berthroom when he heard the comment from Fireflight. Silverbolt had said nothing at the statement, letting it pass as he turned his helm away to gaze out of the nearest window. 

He missed Motormaster in a strange way, yet felt at peace with himself for releasing the truck. There was nothing pet-like about Motormaster, nothing that could be tamed or controlled. He was a wild creature and deserved to be allowed such a life. Yet there was still a void in Silverbolt’s spark, the aerial’s wings drooping a little lower on his back than usual as he went about his usual chores and duties.

“I’m going for a walk,” he finally announced, Skydive nodding that he had heard while he sat calmly at the dinner table, a cup of early morning energon in his hand and the news in the other.

“Have fun. I’ll try to keep the rest of this rowdy bunch in line,” he chuckled, knowing that Air Raid would remain asleep for a time and that Slingshot would also be in a similar position. Silverbolt smiled and headed out, pleased when he was greeted by the warm sun upon stepping outside. 

The mech turned his faceplate to the light and took a deep breath. It felt good to be free of the building, picking a direction into the city to walk. He headed for the main gates since he intended to go flying once he was free of the city limits. Silverbolt made his way down the alleys and lesser used roads, wanting to explore on his way. 

“Hey, what are you doing here, pretty mech?" someone called out, Silverbolt’s wings flicking upwards in alarm. Who was talking to him? Looking around for the source of the voice, the aerial found himself surrounded in a matter of seconds by four ground models. Two trucks, an SUV, and a very scrappy little sedan. 

“You lost?” one of the trucks asked, eyeing Silverbolt in a way that the jet did not appreciate. His wings became tense, the normally calm and controlled mech feeling he could very well be in danger. 

“I am not lost,” he replied shortly, trying to move out of the ring of Nails. He saw no badges on them and assumed they were all neutrals who had returned to Cybertron now that it was rebuilding. “I am leaving the city, so please let me through.”

“Why should we? You came over to our turf and then expect not to pay a toll?” the SUV asked, cocking his head to the side in surprise. “You Autobots don’t get how the world works, do you?”

“Excuse me?” Silverbolt snapped, his faceplate morphing into a frown. “I need to go, please let me through. There are no tolls here.”

“There is for us. But it’s not money we want,” one of the trucks rumbled, padding closer to prowl around the aerial with a lustful glimmer in his yellow optics. A hand reached out and grabbed Silverbolt’s wing tip, squeezing it harshly until the aerial let out a soft hiss of pain. 

“Unhand me,” Silverbolt growled, wings high on his back with aggression. The truck had no intentions of letting him leave though, his grasp firm. 

Silverbolt suddenly doubled over, a knee having been slammed into his gut. He keeled over with a grunt as all the wind was knocked out of him. He wheezed, trying to recover as the truck shoved him backwards and onto the ground. Silverbolt snarled, kicking the sedan type as he tried to come near but was tackled by the two trucks before he could scramble away or go into a full attack. 

Like a trapped bird Silverbolt’s wings flapped desperately against the ground as he was pinned, some tiny sounds of distress escaping. They weren’t Seeker, but aerials had their own panicked noises when they were in trouble that differed from grounders. One of the trucks pressed his knee into the expanse of a wing and got a squeal of pain out of Silverbolt, the mech snarling a short order to shut up before slapping a hand over the aerial’s mouth. 

“Keep quiet or we'll make this a hell of a lot worse for you,” he threatened, shoving Silverbolt’s helm down onto the ground with a harsh crack. 

Silverbolt tried to bite and fight back, kicking and clawing. But the truck had his wing pinned down enough to make the flier refuse to fight too hard. He could feel the joint of the appendage was straining, his internal systems begging him not to wrench against the hold on him lest he cause his wing to dislocate. He kicked back the SUV and tried to hold him off, but once one of his legs were grabbed he knew he was in serious trouble. 

“Just pay the toll we’re asking and we’ll let you go on your way,” the SUV said, tapping Silverbolt’s panel with the tip of his pede. “Not so hard to do, now is it?”

Silverbolt tried to shout but the hand over his mouth made it difficult to make much more than a muffled grunt. The trucks were heavier than him and seemed to know how to keep an aerial type down, his other wing soon pinned under the other mech’s pede. He glared daggers at the SUV and refused to open his panel as demanded, continuing to fight. 

“So you’d rather make this hard on yourself, hmm? You’re not making a very smart choice, pal.”

“Neither are you, scum!”

Silverbolt’s wing yanked out of its socket as the truck holding a hand over his mouth was suddenly removed by an immense, fast-moving force. Screaming began after that, but Silverbolt came to realize it wasn’t him making the noise. It was the truck. A blur of black and gray came shooting past him and now someone else was getting tackled, the remaining members of the ragtag gang taking off to avoid the fate of their friends. 

The tricolor aerial didn’t move, his wing throbbing with pain at even the slightest movement. He grit his dentas to keep from making noise, his optics shuttered as he readied himself for whatever was to come next. He suspected the black and gray attacker would come for him after he was done with the others, but an attack never came. 

Instead he felt a gentle nudge on his shoulder, a deep grunt rumbling out of the mech. Silverbolt knew that grunt. He unshuttered his optics to find Motormaster hovering over him, the truck’s hulking form unsure as he prodded at Silverbolt again. The aerial felt a strange sense of relief, reaching up to silently ask to be moved. 

“Motormaster, my wing…”

“They busted it,” the semi growled, dentas gnashing together as he looked for the other gang members. He wanted them all dead but he had only managed to get two of them. Tempted to go on a hunt, the brute ruffled his armor plating and took a few steps towards the alley where the sedan and remaining truck had gone. 

“No! Motormaster, stay here…please, I need you to take me to a medic,” Silverbolt called out, bringing the truck right back to his side. The brute knelt down and tried to figure out how he could carry Silverbolt from the alley without making his wing worse. Those silly aerial kibble bits always seemed to cause trouble. “Why are you back here in the city? You’ll be caught!” Silverbolt added, regarding the larger mech with curiosity through his discomfort. 

“I don’t know. What does it matter, I saved your aft and that’s all you gotta worry about,” Motormaster grunted, not about to give a reason as to why he was there. It wasn’t like him to know much, the semi truck mostly driven by emotion and rage to act. “You have that collar?”

“It’s in my subspace, yes. Why?”

“Put it on or else I can’t take you to a medic,” Motormaster muttered, hating that he would have to do such a thing. “I’m gonna trust you aren’t interested in double crossing me and keeping me in it.”

“I would never do that to you!”

“Good, now slap it on so your dumb wing can get repaired.”

Silverbolt carefully clipped the collar back around Motormaster’s neck, feeling the pulse of the mech’s main line against his fingertips. Motormaster was acting much differently than normal, but Silverbolt wasn’t about to complain—not when the mech was his only way to a medical facility. His wing was making it hard to think about much else, pain driving his thoughts. 

Motormaster did as he said he would, scooping Silverbolt into his arms before plodding along down the street until he came to the nearest med bay. He entered it and simply held Silverwing out to the medics on staff until someone came and collected the aerial from him. He didn’t let Silverbolt out of his sight though, the mech trailing along after him until one of the nurses attempted to stop Motormaster from padding into the same examining room as Silverbolt. 

“No pets allowed.”

“Then I refuse care and will be going somewhere else. He saved me, he stays with me,” Silverbolt shot back, sounding surprisingly fierce despite his condition. The medics looked at one another before shrugging, deciding it was less trouble to simply allow the semi truck in than argue with his owner and have the huge brute protest.

“Motormaster, please sit down.”

Giving Silverbolt a snort in response, Motormaster surprisingly obeyed and sat down in a chair, the mech grumbling about how it might break under his weight. Thankfully it didn’t, the black and gray truck quietly watching everything with his burning purple optics. If anyone made a wrong move and hurt the Aerialbot, there would be hell to pay.

“It’s not as serious as it probably feels,” one of the medics said, numbing the joint before he pushed the wing back into its rightful place. He moved the limb a few times, testing it to see if the full range of motion was back. “You’ll be fine and recover quickly. No flying for two or three days to be safe, though.”

The mech didn’t ask how the wound had been received and didn’t pay much mind to the semi truck staring at him like a predator would watch potential prey. He simply completed his job and wandered off to check in on another patient. Silverbolt waited a few minutes before he stood up, a hand reaching out for Motormaster to help steady himself. 

Motormaster allowed his frame to become a crutch, leading Silverbolt out of the building once the aerial felt he was able to walk. The pair said nothing, Motormaster still unsure why he had come back. Part of him had been driven by revenge, but the other half had returned for something else. He startled out of his thoughts when he felt warm hands at his neck, the weight of the collar removed with a quiet click. Silverbolt smiled up at him, faceplate radiant with affection.

“I came back to kill you,” Motormaster growled, although he still made no move to be aggressive towards the flier. “All of you will die for making me into a slave.”

“I don’t think you’d go through all the trouble to help me with my wing if that was what you really wanted, Motormaster.”

The truck snarled something inaudible back, Silverbolt letting the brute mutter to himself as they walked back towards the apartment. The jet was doing his best not to think about the near rape he had experienced, pushing the thoughts back for a later time. Compartmentalizing the events of the day, Silverbolt decided he would allow himself to break down that night in the comfort of his gestalt. Right now he had Motormaster back and intended to keep him close if the Stunticon would stay.

“Do you want to join me for lunch?”

“You nearly got plowed by a gang and you’re asking me if I want to stay for lunch. You Autobots aren’t right in the head,” Motormaster huffed, unable to comprehend how Silverbolt worked. He decided it had to be a strange coping mechanism for the other bot, his armor plating ruffling up at the thought of /his/ worst enemy getting attacked by anyone other than him. 

“…What kind of lunch?”

Silverbolt smiled, taking Motormaster’s hand and pulling the huge mech towards his favorite cafe. There was no protest, Motormaster simply plodding along beside the tricolor aerial. He would rip them apart later, but for right now they needed to refuel before revenge could be had. 

***

Lunch was oddly calm, both mechs taking the time to reflect inwardly about their situation. Motormaster spoke first, a loud rumble coming from his engine. 

“I’m going to have to kill you when we leave here,” he warned, the mech’s heavy elbows resting on the table as he locked Silverbolt in his firm gaze.

The Aerialbot had no fear whatsoever of the statement, the semi truck’s threats hollow. Motormaster was not a creature of patience and would have already snapped had he wanted to murder the aerial. Silverbolt had seen Motormaster’s temper and could sense there was no fury in the mech’s frame, his pose relaxed if a bit unsure. 

“Then let’s get it over with.”

Silverbold stood up and motioned for Motormaster to follow along, the behemoth rising from his place to lumber along beside him. The Aerialbot could feel the intensity of Motormaster’s gaze on his frame as they walked out of the cafe, wings flicking about. He was relieved the damaged appendage felt better, even though it still had a residual ache. 

“What does that all mean, when you move your wings like that?” Motormaster asked, poking Silverbolt’s shoulder. 

“They mean all sorts of things. I know the language is harder for grounders to learn since they don’t have the same appendages, but I could try to teach you some of the basic meanings,” Silverbolt said, Motormaster chuffing loudly at the idea. He wasn’t sure he wanted to learn anything, but then again what else was he going to do? 

As Silverbolt had claimed, Motormaster had no intentions of killing the other mech when they walked out into the street. He was simply followed beside him like a loyal friend, not a soul giving the two a second glance. They didn’t look like master and pet, walking in step with one another as equals.

“Are you intending to come back and stay with us?” Silverbolt asked, pulling them into a lesser used street when he saw some Enforcers rounding a corner. He didn’t want them asking questions about a huge Decepticon that wasn’t leashed and collared in public. Motormaster snarled a warning at being tugged at, pulling his wrist away. 

“I’m only going to your apartment for the execution. I will defeat your miserable gestalt and grind them into the floor,” Motormaster vowed, trying to look scary by pulling back his lips and showing his dentas. Silverbolt pretended to be slightly nervous, but he once again felt the threat was hollow. It seemed that Motormaster was mostly bark and only some bite. 

“I think everyone will be horrified to see you,” he nearly snickered, thankfully keeping a straight face.   
“Good,” Motormaster rumbled back, armor fluffing up as he strode along towards the apartment he strangely had labeled with the word ‘home.’


	17. Wildrider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been forever since I updated. Finally here's another chapter lol

The apartment was surprisingly quiet when First Aid entered, pushing open the door to find he was not greeted by Wildrider as usual. He frowned behind his face mask, cautiously walking into the room and shutting the door. First Aid shuffled around looking for Wildrider in his favorite spots, such as the couch, the seat near the window that overlooked the street, and finally the berthroom. 

He was surprised to find the black and red sedan curled up on the berth, nestled into the covers but not asleep. The mech made a soft huff when he saw First Aid, raising his head ever so slightly from his folded arms. 

“Hey,” he said, not bothering to get up or try to be excited. He didn’t see the point. 

Wildrider had done some thinking. That was not what he normally did, all that ‘thinking’ stuff, but after his dumb outburst the night before he had realized nothing was going to happen between them. He had ruined his chances to get close to First Aid because the guy was scared of him and disgusted all at the same time. It made Wildrider feel oddly glum, the mech surprised he even had those feelings. He had spent the day moping around in self pity, wondering what he should do.

“Wildrider, are you feeling ill?” First Aid asked, hurrying over to put a hand on the sedan’s forehead. He was concerned, bothered that the usual bouncy and excitable mech was gone. Wildrider growled at the touch, pulling away out of reach. 

“Nah, I’m fine. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at work for another four hours.”

“I came to let you know that I left my shift early today to spend time with you! And I called a friend who has someone I think you’d like to spar with. You asked for that yesterday and I wanted to make sure I found someone.”

“Thanks,” Wildrider grunted, but he still made no move to leave the berth or perk up. “When are they coming?”

“They should be here any minute now!”

“Yeah, good…whatever,” Wildrider mumbled, trying to ignore First Aid as the medic sat down on the side of the berth. “I want to be alone, so could you kinda frag off a little?”

First Aid reached out to rub Wildrider’s side but recoiled fast when the mech nearly had his hand bitten, a soft buzz from the collar correcting the aggressive behavior. Wildrider hissed darkly, scratching at his neck. He still said nothing, an apology never once crossing his mind. 

“Wildrider…what’s wrong?” First Aid asked, deeply worried for the other mech and the change in his behavior. 

“Nothing’s wrong!” Wildrider spat, trying to drive First Aid away. His armor was fluffed up in an aggressive display, the black and red mech awkwardly shuffling out of reach on the berth. “Why do you have to get all up in my face, huh? You shouldn’t touch me, either. You don’t want me like that.”

“Is this about last night? Wildrider, you need to understand that it was inappropriate but I’m not entirely opposed to-”

There was a knock on the door, the sound rescuing First Aid from the situation that had become very tense. He hoped Bluestreak and his pet would put Wildrider into a better mood, the medic hurrying out of the berthroom to the front door. He opened it and was relieved to see Bluestreak’s smiling faceplate and his pet. 

“Hi, First Aid! How have you been?” Bluestreak asked, hugging his pal before he took his pet’s hand and pulled him closer to introduce. “This is Dead End, but you knew that already! He’s been excited to come see his gestalt mate.”

Dead End didn’t say much, but he did grunt a small greeting.

“I’m glad! Wildrider needs a friend,” First Aid said, ushering them both inside and urging Bluestreak to let Dead End off his leash. “Wildrider is in the berthroom. He's feeling slightly down so it would be lovely if you could make him feel appreciated.”

“Wildrider…feeling down? Strange,” Dead End hummed, moving away from his owner and into the berthroom where he spotted Wildrider. 

The black and red mech’s back was facing the door, his sides rising and falling calmly. He almost looked asleep, but Dead End could tell over the faint but always present gestalt bond that the mech was actually awake. He cleared his throat, smirking when he saw Wildrider’s entire frame flail around so he was facing the sound. 

For a moment in time there was no sound, the two looking at one another. Then Wildrider let out a choked whimper, his frame starting to shake. He was thrilled to see his pal again, optics bright and alert. Dead End felt his pedes moving before he even thought to move, immediately joining the other mech on the berth. Wildrider was a wriggling mess of excitement, nuzzling all over Dead End. 

“This better be real. I swear to Primus if this is some fake dream I’m gonna be so mad and bust someone when I wake up…”

“It’s real, Wildrider,” Dead End assured, squeezing his gestalt mate in a tight hug. While the red and black mech was at times a huge pain in the aft, he was also very sweet if one knew how to deal with him. It didn’t take much besides entertaining the bot and wearing out his seemingly endless energy. “How have you been?”

“I’m not being abused or thrown back into death row, so I’m thinking I’m doing well considering,” Wildrider hummed, giving his gestalt mate a small grin. “But I messed up the other night with the Autobot. I asked him if he wanted to fool around and it spooked him something fierce! So now I’ve been trying to stay away from him and not make the guy feel like I’m a predator or anything.”

“I'm sure he understands urges. He is a medic, after all,” Dead End hummed, voice calm and with the usual hint of boredom in it. The sound was comforting to Wildrider, the sedan happy to cuddle with a bot he never imagined he would see again. 

“How have you been with the Praxian?”

“Bluestreak is quite nice. I’ve been pampered,” Dead End chuckled, although he did shrug slightly. “I just go with the flow. He’s generous and I of course take whatever I can.”

“Are you guys…y’know, intimate at all?”

Dead End made a soft huff at that question, not sure if he wanted to answer. Wildrider was at times a gossip. But he figured there was really no one to tell anymore, so he relaxed and told his gestalt mate that they were indeed close. He could see Wildrider’s expression changing, the mech clearly trying to think about his own actions.

“It works out well enough, but it’s not the best interfacing I've had. I’d much rather be with someone like Drag Strip who demands the best. Bluestreak is also gentler than I’m used to and doesn’t get too experimental.”

“I bet First Aid is really sweet when he frags. He’s gentler than any bot I've ever met! I can only imagine…”

Dead End nuzzled into Wildrider’s cheek, a soft rumble coming from his engine. “Would you like to interface now? They’re both busy outside in the other room.”

“If I can pound you into the berth, sure!”

Dead End nodded, shifting closer to the other sports model when he was pounced on, the mech growling playfully as Wildrider wrestled around with him. They reverted back to old times at that moment, remembering what it was like to have a gestalt and be free. Wildrider was just as mouthy as ever and Dead End was happy to lick the other mech as they tumbled around on the berth. 

Wildrider finally grabbed ahold of Dead End’s hips, pawing at them and nudging his faceplate between the other bot’s warm thighs. Dead End huffed cutely, allowing his eager gestalt mate access to his valve. He choked on a gasp when Wildrider immediately latched onto him with his claws and began lapping at his soft protoflesh, soft grunts and purrs escaping the sedan as he got a taste of his mate once more. It had been too long. 

“Hnnnffff…Wildrider…”

“I missed you, buddy! When we get out of these stupid collars, I promise that we’ll go and beat someone up and break some stuff. Sound like a plan?” the excitable mech asked, clambering awkwardly on top of Dead End as the other mech settled onto hands and knees. He perked his aft up to entice the other mech, offering himself in a submissive pose. 

“Yes, that sounds like a plan,” Dead End snickered, knowing that they were unlikely to ever get away. No one would release them, not of their own free will anyway. 

The black and red mech allowed his spike cover to slide aside and his spike to spring free, the mech letting out a content sigh. The breeding organ had been mashed almost painfully against the cover as it had become erect, Wildrider relieved that now he could let his length out and do its job.

Dead End was a patient partner, quiet and still as Wildrider grabbed at and shuffled around him. The sedan was having some trouble staying on top of his mate’s back while thrusting, growling with annoyance as his spike continued to miss its target, hips shifting in awkward humping motions. He knew it was all his fault that he was unable to mount correctly, becoming more frustrated with the gentle demeanor of Dead End. There was no excuse for his poor performance! 

“Sorry…” he muttered, Dead End shifting his aft upwards a little further to make the whole process easier. 

“It’s quite alright, Wildrider. No one is judging you,” the Porsche assured, although after two more clumsy humps from Wildrider he let out a short snarl-yelp of pain. “Don’t jab the wrong spot! I think I may be bleeding there now.”

“Frag this, I can’t get in!” Wildrider whined, making a fuss now that he was unable to do something he wanted. He had to lean back and eventually guide his spike between puffy valve folds, feeling bad when he saw the sharp tip of his breeding organ had indeed caused a prick of energon to well up on one lip of the valve. 

Once he felt the warm sheath of valve protoflesh, Wildrider relaxed considerably. He let out a soft purr and wrapped his arms tightly around the other mech’s waist, holding him in a firm hug as he sunk deeper into the other bot’s frame. He mouthed at Dead End’s nape and nibbled at his jawline when he could reach, draping himself firmly over his partner’s frame. 

“How do you want it, Dead End?” he asked, figuring he might as well ask and try to make it good for the calm, somewhat distant mech that was Dead End. The sports model made a low purr, curling around to kiss his companion. 

“I want it hard. Bluestreak is so gentle sometimes I forget what a good rut would be like,” Dead End replied, letting out a gasp when Wildrider obliged and swiftly thrust forward, lodging his spike as deep as it could go into his partner. “Hnnnaaah! Unnnff, just like that.”

“I know how to be rough, Dead End,” Wildrider snickered, starting up a fierce rut. 

****

Outside in the main room, Bluestreak and First Aid had sat down to have something to eat. They were both calmly discussing their pets and how they were taking care of them when Bluestreak’s door wings flicked and his gaze turned from the red and white ambulance to the entrance to the berthroom. He knew those sounds and blushed slightly, looking quickly away.

“They’re…well, they’re very happy to see each other,” Bluestreak laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were mentioning how Wildrider was getting a bit rowdy, so maybe this will settle him down?”

“Oh, goodness! They’re interfacing in there?!” First Aid yelped, panicked at the announcement. Bluestreak laughed, nodding in confirmation. 

“They sure are! But it’s a good thing, they’ll both be tired and happy once it’s time to go. Anyway, what were you saying about work? Sorry, I kinda got my train of thought derailed!”

First Aid returned to his story, but part of him was lost in a world of thoughts. That and his nether regions were beginning to warm up ever so slightly, the medic crossing his legs to keep the sensations at bay. He would not be bedding anyone until he knew a great deal about them and was sure they were the right bot. Just because he technically owned Wildrider (as odd as that was to the medic) and said mech wanted him, that didn’t mean he had to share in the same feelings. He would need more time to think and decide what he wanted to do. At least for now, as Bluestreak had said, the pair of Stunticons would settle after a good workout. 

****

Wildrider had more stamina than he remembered, enough so that Dead End had started asking for relief of an overload. He was starting to chafe slightly and his lack of movement was making Wildrider bored. The other mech hardly did anything during interfacing and never really had back in the gestalt, more often than not taking whatever was given like an obedient submissive. 

“Would you finish up, Wildrider?” he groaned, valve spasming as Wildrider’s hips gave a few more awkward jerks. 

“One sec…”

Wildrider picked up the pace, firmly mating his companion with deep, commanding thrusts. Dead End was whining now out of discomfort than pleasure, shifting uncomfortably as his gestalt mate chased his overload. At last there was a rush of warmth and the intense pressure of the spike knot, Dead End at last able to overload himself. 

The release of energy and wave of pleasure helped the mech lubricate and his valve expand, taking the knot with less pain than usual. Dead End mewled out a soft sound of completion, shuddering as he felt Wildrider lock with him and his spike unload an impressive amount of transfluid. The pressure bordered on painful, but at least Wildrider was smart in the sense that he let Dead End lower himself fully into the berth before they shifted carefully into a spooning position. 

“You were great, Dead End,” Wildrider said, not entirely lying when he spoke. He was comforted by his gestalt mate’s presence more so than the interface itself, snuggling close to his companion’s frame. He smelled as he always did, a mix of copper and musk. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I belong with Bluestreak now, Wildrider. He and I have made some good memories together, more than I ever had among the gestalt,” Dead End admitted, shaking his helm. “I’m sure you and First Aid are getting along well! He seems like a fine companion.”

“Yeah, he’s great and all, but he doesn’t really want me around. He just rescued me at the last second because he thought it was the right thing to do. He wasn’t exactly head over heels for me or anything.”

“I think you’ll learn to enjoy one another. But for now, let things develop as they will. There’s no sense in rushing anything.”

Wildrider didn’t say a word in response, instead he tucked his faceplate into Dead End’s neck and waited for the spike knot to deflate. It would be about twenty minutes, but it wasn’t like they had anywhere to be. Dead End was calm and still, his valve rippling and occasionally squeezing around the breeding mod. Once Wildrider became flaccid enough the knot deflated, the pair pulling apart at last. 

“We’ve made a mess of the berth,” Dead End huffed, checking his valve for any tears. There was a small tinge of energon mixed with Wildrider’s transfluid but it was nothing serious. Besides, it would be an excuse to get attention from Bluestreak later.

The pair eventually wandered out of the berthroom looking tired and sated, Bluestreak happily greeting his affectionate if not a little aloof mech. Dead End calmly padded over to him and sat down on the couch, leaning his shoulder against the other mech’s. His movements were slightly stiff to signal what sort of activity he had been up to with his gestalt mate. Even so Bluestreak smiled and whispered something to him, earning a quiet chuckle from the sports model. 

Wildrider hung back, hovering awkwardly in front of the chair in which First Aid sat. He made no optic contact with the red and white mech, instead shuffling over to the couch to sit next to Dead End. It wasn’t like there was room to be around First Aid so he had to find somewhere to rest. He was tired after pounding Dead End. 

“Wildrider, are you well?” First Aid asked before he could help it, the red and black sedan making a soft huff. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” 

Nothing more was said about the condition of Wildrider, First Aid and Bluestreak chatting away. Wildrider was zoning out, optics distant as he stared off at a far wall. He wanted to take a nap, content now that some of his ever-present energy had been worn through. Dead End also appeared to be worn out, yawning cutely as he leaned a little more against his owner. Bluestreak smiled knowingly at him, rubbing his upper arm. 

“I think it’s time we get going!” he said, Dead End not complaining one bit as he stood up and gazed longingly at the door of the apartment. “Thanks for having us over, First Aid! It was nice to catch up and talk,” he added, giving First Aid a friendly hug before the medic wished them well and saw them off. 

“Have a safe drive back!” he called after the pair as they walked side by side into the hallway. The red and white medic shut the door of his apartment behind them and turned to see what Wildrider was up to. His optic ridges raised when he noticed the Stunticon was gone from the couch. “Wildrider?”

The mech had wandered back to the berthroom and was curled up on the berth that smelled of sex, the strong musk of two mechs still lingering in the air. First Aid wasn’t turned off by it, although he approached the drowsy Stunticon with some caution. Wildrider made a low sound in his throat when he saw First Aid approach, optics focusing on him with only minor interest.

“I think when you’ve had a nap we should talk,” First Aid said gently, reaching out to ever-so-gently pet across Wildrider’s side. The mech didn’t pull away or bite, so that was a good sign. Whether it was because he was too tired to retaliate was unknown though. “Get some rest, Wildrider.”

“Will do, boss,” Wildrider murmured, curling up on the mattress as First Aid gathered up the fluid stained sheets for a wash.


End file.
